remember, remember, when the artist was an anonymous drunkard, unwashed and unshaven, slaving over their sculptures in a bubonic haze, begging their dinner of meat on the bone, crusts and rotten cabbages, and in the moonlight sleeping with blossoming blushing barkeeps on beds of stolen wine? and never ever once believing that they deserved anything more than this? that anything more was possible, or even desirable?

perhaps: artists dont actually, really deserve to be paid for their work, any more than the bleeding mother deserves payment for her just suddenly breathing child. what is nice and what is deserved, are just, not, the same.

take it! take it! take it!

i dont want it!

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--all songs written and performed by Dave Malloy except where indimacated

© Dave Malloy and Blue Wizard Music (ASCAP)



