The Artist Lyrics

The artist he wakes, it's a quarter past ten

He glances to the right, reaches for a pen

Writes meaningful words in delicate prose

Gathers his things then it's off down the road

He strolls through the town, a guitar in hand

He's on his way to his next one night stand

Checks the sound, bums a place to stay

He hopes that the punters are cashed up today

He knows the world loves the artist, the man of indeterminate means

With music that can rock the nation, and poetry that can make your heart bleed

Oh let it bleed, let it bleed, let it bleed.

It's an ordinary crowd, but he works the stage

Teases, cajoles, plays the sage

Catches an eye in the second last row,

Speaks to her heart, lets her know he knows,

Yeah he knows.

That life has been unkind to her, but tonight she can let it all go

And the artist can soothe all that trouble and pain

She can throw it away, she'll not make the same mistakes again

He knows the world loves the artist, the man of indeterminate means

With music that can rock the nation, and poetry that can make your heart bleed

Oh let it bleed, let it bleed, let it bleed.

The artist he wakes it's a quarter past ten.