Too Busy Being an Artist to Create Any Art

I enrolled in Bikram yoga like an arthouse actor might,
I thought about my film script — the one I’d always meant to write,
I got completely shit-faced to invoke my inner artiste,
I shopped around for religion from the Far, Far East.

I tested out my Turkish when I ordered baklava,
I bought a trendy, done-up, rare, retro-vintage car,
I criticised the outer suburbs and all those bogan thugs,
I didn’t paint a single thing, because I took too many drugs.

I’m too busy being creative to actually make a start,
I’m too busy being an artist to create any art.

I’ve got this idea for a book, it breaks from all routine,
And what I plan my band to be is the best you’ve never seen,
It’s not about the money — it’s about the installation,
You’ll be seeing mine when I’m done with procrastination.

I tweet from galleries and spaces where famous artists lurk,
I haven’t had time to sculpt since I took on temp work,
I’d never sell out, you know, I’ve got too much heart,
And I’ve got nothing to sell — I’ve never made any art.

I’m too busy being creative to actually make a start,
I’m too busy being an artist to create any art.

 

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