Words and music: lou reed & john cale
The trouble with a classicist he looks at a tree
Thats all he sees, he paints a tree
The trouble with a classicist he looks at the sky
He doesnt ask why, he just paints a sky
The trouble with an impressionist, he looks at a log
And he doesnt know who he is, standing, staring, at this log
And surrealist memories are too amorphous and proud
While those downtown macho painters are just alcoholic
The trouble with impressionist is
The trouble with impressionist is
The trouble with personalities, theyre too wrapped up in style
Its too personal, theyre in love with their own guile
Theyre like illegal aliens trying to make a buck
Theyre driving gypsy cabs but theyre thinking like a truck
The trouble with personalities is
The trouble with personalities is
I like the druggy downtown kids who spray paint walls and trains
I like their lack of training, their primitive technique
I think sometimes it hurts you when you stay too long in school
I think sometimes it hurts you when youre afraid to be called a fool
The trouble with classicists is
The trouble with classicists is
