We Are The Artists Yoho/Philipsek/Linman

We are the artists
We wear the berets Look at that suit
You must be an accountant Suit, suit!

We have nearly all
Leonard Coen's cassettes Look at that suit
And clove cigarettes Suit, suit!

We sneer down our noses
At those who would doubt us Look at that suit
You can't live without us Suit, suit!

Black turtle-neck sweaters
and black horn-rimmed glasses Look at that suit
We sit on our astral projections Whooo!

Chorus:
We are the artists, the poets and writers
You can't understand us, there's deep shit inside us, whoo

We are the artists
We wear the Berets Look at that suit
You must be an accountant Suit, suit!

We borrow French art books
to bring to cafes Look at that suit
Won't that impress you? Ooh, yea!

Nous sommes les artistes
so unique we don't care Look at that suit
Must you stare? Suit, suit!

Our art's on the edge
'Cause nobody likes it That's why it's good
We're so misunderstood Whooo!

Sidewalk cappuccino, hour after hour
Throwing back your head then quoting Shopenhower
We wait with baited breath, you words begin to tempt us
We listen to you speak from your perch on Mount Olympus

Chorus X2

©1995 Auto Order Music (BMI)

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