Lyrics:
I could, maybe I could, maybe I
Could meet the artists, and get to know them personally
If I were David Byrne
I'd go to galleries and not be too
There are no lyrics to this track. It is intentionally blank, with each of the 71 seconds representing one of the years that the artist's father,
Wilson
Wilson
Wilson
Wilson
Oh out near Stonehenge, I lived alone
Oh out near Gamehendge, I chafed a bone
Wilson, King of Prussia, I lay this
rap
Got to pay to get your boys back
I'ma kidnap artists
Real artists
Fake artists
Strong artists
Weak artists
Tight jeans wearing new rap R&B
introduced the oceans to the earth
Well whoever made the snowflakes
Made shadows where doubts lurk
I suspect an artist is at work
I know when an artist
America's most complete artist"
"What's your name boy?"
"I.. am.." "America's most complete artist"
"You better get ready"
"for America's most complete
values
When you associate with secular artists in the R&B hip-hop world
Here he comes
I cannot believe the controversy shrowding this man
Mr.
(辛い記憶も)
一気に (時代の roar)
即 飲み干す (自分と共存)
一気に (okay now I'm ready fo' sho')
さあ 飲め飲め飲め飲め このグラス ay
さあ 酔え酔え酔え 今 to your artist
ワンショット (one shot) ツーショット
true artist
Makes him aware that our Nation falls
Short of it's highest potential
I see little of more importance to
The future of our country and
Our
of other lover's been burned
And right now this seems real to you
But it's one of those things you gotta feel to be true (baby)
Oh, yeah
Go Lainey
And the men who hold high places
Must be the ones who start
To mold a new reality
Closer to the heart
Closer to the heart
The blacksmith
Yo, yeah, dat way
I mean, you know this not a diss record
I don't sneak diss
This just for the record, just facts
Your artists be taking my
artists, they were on the run
I got them out to California
One was gifted and the other was fun
Merchants will always be merchants, of course
But
All alone, or in two's
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands
And the men who hold high places
Must be the ones who start
To mold a new reality
Closer to the heart
Closer to the heart
The blacksmith
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
I heard Woodrow Wilson's guns
I heard Maria crying
Late last night I heard the news
That was dying
Veracruz was dying
Someone called Maria's
a large type artist ranch
This is where see Wilson wrote Ritual in the Dark
Have you been to the English Deer Park?
Spare a thought for the sleeping promo
skin
And when I feel it, you're wearing thin
But I've got a plan
Why don't you be the artist
And make me out of clay?
Why don't you be the writer
be back
But I loosened up the binds where my hands were lashed
And ran towards the cove where my boat was stashed
Singing, "Oh Wilson, someday I
artist
And everybody knows you by a different name
I didn't catch your first name
I didn't get your last
I didn't hear too much what was said
My
All alone, or in two's
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands
I tell you folks it's heaven to be ridin' down the trail
To watch the desert sun go down
Cactus plants are bloomin'...
To watch the desert sun go
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