We're only artists at an art show
Not really alive or attentive
Go ahead, say anything that comes to mind.
It's not you telling your four-year-old daughter
My stuff looks like something she'd do,
But it's the laugh that gives away
How you feel about her art and mine.
Don't worry about my vision or concepts
Of course I'll break up a set for you.
Why not? The corner of your knick-knack shelf
Is more important than all my labor.

By the way, do you have this in blue, or less blue,
Or no blue at all, at least not this blue?

We artists are all like dogs chained at the neck.
Starve us long enough and we'll sell.
Sell it cheap, marked down, discounted,
Close out specials, come on in, we're cutting prices.
After all we want to be what you want us to be,
Little Wal Marts, only with original, one of a kind offerings.

No wonder so many artists go rabid
When they make it to the top, financially secure.
It's our natural response to your training.