[Intro]
E  G#  C#m  A
[Strophe]
E      G#    C#m    A     B 
Art is dead, art is dead 
E      G#    C#m    A     B 
Art is dead, art is dead 
E             G#                 C#m       A          B    E 
Entertainers like to seem complicated, but we're not complicated 
        G#              C#m              A     B 
I can explain it pretty easily: have you ever been to a  
E                  G#                       C#m                    A      B 
Birthday party for children? and one of the children won't stop screaming 
                  E                 G#                        C#m                  A 
Cause he's just a little attention attractor and when he grows up to be a comic or actor, 
 B          E                   G#              C#m              A       B 
He'll be rewarded for never maturing for never understanding or learning 
           E             G#                     C#m                 A       B 
That every day can't be about him there's other people you selfish asshole!
[Strophe]
              E                  G#                        C#m                   A      B 
I must be psychotic, I must be demented, to think that I'm worthy of all this attention, 
               E                       G#                   C#m                          A          
Of all of this money you worked really hard for, I slept in late while you worked at the drug store 
 B  
 
            E                G#                C#m                    A   B 
My drug's attention, I am an addict, but I get paid to indulge in my habit 
              E                   G#                   C#m               A        B 
It's all an illusion, I'm wearing make-up, I'm wearing make-up, make-up, make-up, make-up
[Strophe]
E        G#        C#m                         A                B 
Art is dead, so people think you're funny, how do you get those people's money? 
E       G#            C#m                 A      B 
Art is dead, we're rolling in dough while Carlin rolls in his  
E             G#            C#m     A  B 
Grave, in his grave, in his grave.... 
      E              G#         C#m            A  B 
This show has got a budget, the show has got a budget 
     E                  G#                        C#m          A    B 
And all the poor people way more deserving of the money won't budge it 
         E                 G#            C#m               A        B 
Cause I wanted my name in lights. when I could have fed a family of four 
     E            G#          C#m           A          B 
For forty fucking fortnights, forty fucking fortnights!
[Strophe]
        E                     G#               C#m                    A       B 
I am an artist, please god forgive me, I am an artist, please don't revere me 
        E                     G#                 C#m                   A        B 
I am an artist, please don't respect me, I am an artist, feel free to correct me 
                E                     G#              C#m              A     B 
A self-centered artist, self-obsessed artist, I am an artist, I am an artist! 
               E               G#              C#m           A               B        E 
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....