Bo Burnham - Art is Dead (piano) | Текст песни

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• Bo Burnham
• Art is Dead (piano)

Art is dead.
Art is dead.
Art is dead.
Art is dead.

Entertainers like to seam 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 under-
Standing or learning.

That every day.
Can't be about him.
There's other people.
You selfish ass hole.

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 really 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, make...

Art is dead,
So people think you're funny, how do you get those peoples money
Said art is dead,
We're rolling in dough, while Carlin rolls in his grave.
His grave, his grave.

The 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 feed a family of four.
For forty fucking fortnights.
Forty fucking fortnights.

I am an artist, please god forgive me.
I am an artist, please don't revere me.
I am an artist, please don't respect me.
I am an artist, your free to correct me.

A self-centered artist.
Self-obsesed 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.
Kid.
And maybe I'll grow out of it.

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