ART IS DEAD - Bo Burnham

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 a 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 under-

Standing or learning

That every day

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, you 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 make-up, I’m wearing make-up

Make-up, make-up, make-up, make…

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

The show has got a budget

The show has got a budget

And all the poor people way more deserving of the money

Won’t budge it

'Cause I wanted my name in lights

When I could have fed a family of four

For forty fucking fortnights

Forty fucking 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