The Artist and the Muse

Come in, sit down, take a seat
Feel the leather on your skin
I’ve been reading your report
It’s very interesting
It says here you’re a painter
Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong
It seems your only problem sir is an astounding lack of one
I find myself confused between the artist and the muse
My Mona Lisa she don’t smile like she used to
The endless hours trapped in this room
God I’m burning up, I’m burning up
Look at these blots of ink and tell me what comes to mind
Perhaps you see the scorpion or the butterfly
He looked at them for a while and slowly replied
These all look like paintings, paintings of mine
I find myself confused between the artist and the muse
My Mona Lisa she don’t smile like she used to
The endless hours trapped in this room
God I’m burning up, yeah I’m burning up
I can’t do this nothing makes sense anymore
I can’t do this nothing makes sense anymore
I can’t do this nothing makes sense anymore
When you can’t communicate nothing makes sense anymore
He just sat there in his armchair
Didn’t say a word, no he don’t care
Then I noticed something, that was my watch he was wearing
In fact he kind of looked like me if I went a little crazy
I find myself confused between the artist and the muse
My Mona Lisa she don’t smile like she used to
The endless hours trapped in this room
God I’m burning up, I’m burning up
Father watch, I’ll fly higher then the rest
They can call me mad but I’ll be a genius
Father watch, I’ll fly higher then the rest
Father do you smell burning feathers, burning feathers