jesus christ bleeds in water colors and mp3s
We wear our stars like jesus christ
Put them in platinum hand cuffs of wealth and fame
Tie them to the stage and force them to sing
Force them to live, to bleed for us, cry for us
In our artificial lives where none of us can sing
Like a sacrificial ritual
Your words and thoughts and tears
Become mine to me
jesus christ bleeds in water colors and mp3s
Art has become my religion
Like a drug with no rehab program
Like a velvet bed you can never get out of
I carry all your metaphors in my pocket
I wear them around my heart
And when the world is falling down
I make you sing with me
To hold it up
The world and history is filled with martyrs
Artists who gave their life for the cause
On opium and heroin
In small cells and dark lonely quarters
Bleeding to make pools of words and stories
That we gather into books
That become part of the mausoleum we call literature
Their dead unknown lives only whispered now
jesus christ bleeds in water colors and mp3s
Art has become my religion
Like a drug with no rehab program
Like a velvet bed you can never get out of
I carry all your metaphors in my pocket
I wear them around my heart
And when the world is falling down
I make you sing with me
To hold it up
All the artists who lost their souls
Just to paint it on canvas
Who bled and sung in water colors and in oil based paint
Who took their dreams, the nightmares that haunted them
And sacrificed it onto the painter’s board
As if it would go away
As if the sacred ghost in the would leave
As if they could leave the religion of which they were the messiahs
As if they could get down from the cross and stop singing
As if they could walk away from the bodhi tree and stop feeling
human dreams bleed endlessly and for this there is neither bandage nor gauze.
Put them in platinum hand cuffs of wealth and fame
Tie them to the stage and force them to sing
Force them to live, to bleed for us, cry for us
In our artificial lives where none of us can sing
Like a sacrificial ritual
Your words and thoughts and tears
Become mine to me
jesus christ bleeds in water colors and mp3s
Art has become my religion
Like a drug with no rehab program
Like a velvet bed you can never get out of
I carry all your metaphors in my pocket
I wear them around my heart
And when the world is falling down
I make you sing with me
To hold it up
The world and history is filled with martyrs
Artists who gave their life for the cause
On opium and heroin
In small cells and dark lonely quarters
Bleeding to make pools of words and stories
That we gather into books
That become part of the mausoleum we call literature
Their dead unknown lives only whispered now
jesus christ bleeds in water colors and mp3s
Art has become my religion
Like a drug with no rehab program
Like a velvet bed you can never get out of
I carry all your metaphors in my pocket
I wear them around my heart
And when the world is falling down
I make you sing with me
To hold it up
All the artists who lost their souls
Just to paint it on canvas
Who bled and sung in water colors and in oil based paint
Who took their dreams, the nightmares that haunted them
And sacrificed it onto the painter’s board
As if it would go away
As if the sacred ghost in the would leave
As if they could leave the religion of which they were the messiahs
As if they could get down from the cross and stop singing
As if they could walk away from the bodhi tree and stop feeling
human dreams bleed endlessly and for this there is neither bandage nor gauze.