They say pain can bring out the artist's best
|
But since you've been gone, I just can't care less
|
Common sense doesn't realize
|
It can hurt so bad
|
Everyday I sit in my garret staring at the floor
|
But my heart isn't in it anymore
|
|
There goes my inspiration
|
My reason for creation
|
There goes my inspiration
|
I felt it fly away when you said goodbye
|
|
Me and Gaugin used to party down
|
I was hung in the Louvre, I was Renoir's pal
|
Vincent Van Gogh used to joke with me
|
Now they don't come 'round
|
It's all over town that the master's lost his touch
|
I'm so lost I can hardly hold a brush
|
|
And now my palette is a sorry mix of grey and brown
|
And all the other art lovers stay away
|
'cause I'm bringing them down
|
|
Now I wander the left bank every day
|
Searching for my muse in sad cafes
|
Peddle my oils to the galleries
|
But they turn me down
|
Everybody says I'm a master of technique
|
But the style and the sentiment is weak
|
|
-----------------
|
There Goes My Inspiration
|
| Utopia |
