Lyrics:
Far above the highest heavens
On a throne of crystal light
Dwells the God of all creation
Rays of wonder crown His might
Human voices blend with
His mind is up his sleeve
And his talk is make believe
Oh, Lord, the man's a fraud
He's a flim flam man
He's an artist
He's a flim flam man
He's
The artist, however faithful to his
Personal vision of reality
Becomes the last champion of the
Individual mind and sensibility
Against an intrusive
Franklin, is it not true that you're not a christian artist
But a secular artist posing as a christian artist?
Excuse me Mr. Franklin
Remcg his work
and salute him when his birthday comes
For Halloween, buy him a trumpet and for Christmas, buy him a gun
He's got everything he needs, he's an artist
P!
Real artists
Fake artists
Hot artists
Wack artists
Hard artists
Soft artists
I'm addressing all artists
I'm a prisoner, a slave to this
Tune me in to the wild side of life
I'm an innocent young child sharp as a knife
Take me to the garretts where the artists have died
Show me
and the artist
Reflect it in their art
They forge their creativity
Closer to the heart
Yes, closer to the heart
Philosophers and plowmen
Each must know
suddenly striped
His hair blondish and poetic
He is less than vinyl perfect
His foot is a precise anchor for the husk and vibrance of his voice
He is
suddenly striped
His hair blondish and poetic
He is less than vinyl perfect
His foot is a precise anchor for the husk and vibrance of his voice
He is
Tune me in to the wild side of life
I'm an innocent young child sharp as a knife
Take me to the garretts where the artists have died
Show me
and the artist
Reflect it in their art
They forge their creativity
Closer to the heart
Yes, closer to the heart
Philosophers and plowmen
Each must know
I helped my good friend's brother
Out of trouble when he was in jail
I was flush 'cause I got lucky
Paid his lawyer and I paid his bail
Glad
Yo, think I just found the first artist I'm gonna sign to DTA Records
This kid's next, his name is jxdn
Hit me back, peace
those people's money?
I said art is dead
We're rolling in dough while Carlin rolls in his grave
His grave
His grave
This show has got a budget
will
We think you have a problem
And this problem's made you ill"
The artist walks among the flowers
Appreciating the sun
He's out there all his
Oh, oh my darling
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah
The artist pays the price
So you won't have to pay
If only we would listen
To what they have to say
Oh, oh my darling
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah
The artist pays the price
So you won't have to pay
If only we would listen
To what they have to say
The artist
Edgar
Speaking about him and his name
His art and his poetic journey
And how he wants to reach new audiences
to the shore
It was in his blood and in his bones
Ignored by all the trendy boys in London and in Leeds
He might as well have been making toys or strings
something to be involved in, something too big to ignore.
It is our function as artists to make the spectator to see the world our way,
not his way.
pull up to his mansion alone
And don't come in with all that gun play
Your artists be taking my swag
I wonder if I could come take some of yours
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