The lady does the best that she can But she can't touch the pillars of state I love the honesty her talent demands The way she insists on saying
But that lady throbs between two lives Eventually she takes the time to beautify With blood-red dyes and drive out on the town
The artist in the idiot's clothes You know the way they go They go down, they drown They go down, they drown They go down, they drown
And that guy reads and tries to write And talks until he bores you He wants to know all the secrets of soul He hasn't got a shit show
And he jumps the band-wagon before it's too late With a head full of crap And he never loves, he never hates He doesn't write, he imitates - he's a clown
The artist in the idiot's clothes You know the way they go They go down, they drown They go down, they drown They go down, they drown
Boredom... Oh captain is it time? We must be under way, hey Raise the anchor, world-weary sail away, hey hey But Death, can you see our hearts are gay? Though the sky is black, and the ocean's violent today? You'll never spend a season in hell if you lie in bed all day And you won't ever see anything beautiful again
The artist in the idiot's clothes You know the way they go They go down, they drown They go down, they drown They go down, they drown