When I go out with artists They talk about language and the cubists and the dadaist And I try to catch their meanings And keep up with all the martinis I don't know which should be my favorite paintings
If I could see, if I could see, if I could See all the symbols, unlock what they mean Maybe 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 concerned Well I would have a cup of coffee And I'd find my surroundings quite amusing and People would ask me which were my favorite paintings
What if the artists ran the TV? All the ads would be for fine scotch whiskey: Glenfiddich, Glenlivet, the whole single malt family
The artists of the future Will make up new things and different nomenclatures And they'll stand amongst their pictures And they'll sing and laugh and quote from scriptures and When they go home they'll dream of brilliant paintings
