Art is dead, art is dead Art is dead, art is dead Entertainers like to seem complicated
But we're not complicated I can explain it pretty easily
Have you ever been to a birthday party for children
And one of the children won't stop screaming
Cause he's just a little attention attractor When he grows up to be a comic or actor
He'll be rewarded for never maturing For never understanding or learning
That every day can't be about him There's other people you selfish asshole
I must be psychotic, I must be demented To think that I'm worthy of all this attention
Of all of this money you worked hard for I slept in late while you worked at the drug store
My drug's attention, I am an addict But I get paid to indulge in my habit
It's all an illusion, I'm wearing make-up I'm wearing make-up, make-up, make-up, make-up
Art is dead, so people think you're funny How do you get those people's money?
Art is dead, we're rolling in dough While Carlin rolls in his grave, in his grave
this show has got a budget The show has got a budget
And all the poor people way more deserving of the money won't budge it
Cause I wanted my name in lights When I could have fed a family of four
For forty fucking fortnights, forty fucking fortnights
I am an artist, please god forgive me I am an artist, people don't revere me
I am an artist, please don't respect me I am an artist, feel free to correct me
A self-centered artist, self-obsessed artist I am an artist, I am an artist
But I'm just a kid, I'm just a kid, I'm just a kid And maybe I'll grow out of it