Bo Burnham Art Is Dead
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 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 everyday 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 I 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 makeup, I'm wearing makeup, makeup, makeup, makeup.
Art is dead,
So people think you're funny,
How do we get 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,
This show has got a budget
And all the poor people way more deserving
Of the money won't budget.
'Cause I wanted my name in lights
When I could have fed a family of four
For forty f..cking fortnights,
Forty f..cking 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
You're 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, kid
And maybe I'll grow out of it.
