The Bohemian Gospel

Children, oh children, please raise up thy glasses
Let us toast to the poets and bohemian masses
Turn blood into booze and turn flesh into drugs
A muse on your lap and a bottomless jug

Dionysian, Apollonian
We drink together

Art is heaven for the pessimistic
Romantic nomads in a cheap motel
A gruesome hell for the masochistic
Deaf to the dinner bell

‘Cause artists eat applauses
Artists eat applauses
Artists eat applauses
Artists eat themselves

Damnation lovers, spill tears on thy canvas
And don’t give a fuck if they can’t understand us
Fire and brimstone, libido and anguish
A torn latex cassock and puke and fetish

Bring us pain, bring us wine
The more the better

Art’s a fix for the sorrow bingers
And godless heathens with no place to die
With aching hearts and shaky fingers
Waiting for the next reason to sigh

Artists dream in colors
Artists dream in colors
Artists dream in colors
And cry in black and white

Art is shocking all the unprogressive
Monsieurs et mesdemoiselles
With hedonism and nude aesthetics
And roman goddesses in a shell

Artists aim for heaven
Artists aim for heaven
Artists aim for heaven
Artists shoot themselves