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You wanna make Van Goghs
Raise 'em up like sheep
Make 'em out of Eskimos
And women if you please
Make 'em nice and normal
Make 'em nice and neat
You see him with his shotgun there
Bloodied in the wheat
Oh what do you know about
Living in Turbulent Indigo?
Brash fields, crude crows
In a scary sky
In a golden frame roped off
Tourists guided by
Tourists talking about the madhouse
Talking about the ear
Madman hangs in fancy homes
They wouldn't let him near
He'd piss in their fireplace
He'd drag them through Turbulent Indigo
"I'm a burning hearth", he said
People see the smoke
But no one comes to warm themselves
Sloughing off a coat
And all my little landscapes
All my yellow afternoons
Stack up around this vacancy
Like dirty cups and spoons
No mercy Sweet Jesus
No mercy from Turbulent Indigo
HATA BİLDİR
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