this modern man

Gone are the days when the movies were magical

I looked up at the stars they were cut out and folded into skyscrapers
I remember the worlds rendered, upended, shadowless, deep
Trudging slowly over shallow carpet through a half-century
On I trudge on down through adam smith's wet dream
I woke up from a sweet hallucination measuring 10x23

And its me and kandinsky wondering if you're at all ashamed
We're the ones with the warhols and the kerosene
There's a fat man in the corner lecturing about some black slab
While my heart and my mind fight to the death

Mondrian paint me a boxing ring
My fists are bleeding my fingers ache to the bone
And the lines you see after 1943
May they all melt into naked figures and be pretty

And its me and kandinsky wondering if you're at all ashamed
We're the ones with the warhols and the kerosene
Buildings may fall and bridges may crack but brushstrokes they just bend
While my heart and my mind fight to the death

This modern man

Words and music by michael johnson
© 2000 zubsongs, ltd.