Ninety-nine rooms in the Pharaoh's tombs He was young and hungry king He spent a lot of time in his room, staring at the moon And he loved to hear the young girls sing Remember as you bleed for the artist He only goes the hardest way And as you plead for him to start this You live to hear the artist to say: I love you! So let the criticism start And blow that poison dart You never disrespect The artist or his art It's such a tender heart The one that creates the art Sixty-nine dudes just to get you in the mood I got some issues with your style, girl If my desires do intrude this pleasant interlude I'll probably stay here a little while, girl And now you bleed for the artist Though it might not be the smartest play And as you try to tear apart this You live to hear the artist say: I love you! So let the nihilism start And read a little Sartre You never deselect The artist or his art It's such a wild heart The one that bleeds the art Descend these scales of hollow chorus dressed girls of angels on my heart Statues of males and Christs adorn, but begs the question "Is this art?" Hey, bleed for the artist He only goes the hardest way And as you plead for him to start this You live to hear the artist say: That's right! So throw your items in the cart And burn the Super Mart You can never separate The artist from the art What finally stopped my heart Where to start? Where to start? Where to start? We are the young and hungry patrons of the arts We are the young and hungry patrons of the arts What finally stopped my heart What finally stopped my heart Goo, goo, goo, goo, goo, goo [Spoken:] I thought...is that the end of the song?