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One day I went to work, told em I had had enough
I was born to be an artist I was meant for paint and brush
So I sold all I owned, what I didnât sell I burned
And I moved in with my parents, bought supplies with what Iâd earned
And now all I got to show for these empty cans of paint
Is a portrait of my mother, a suburban landscape
All the people that I met, all the time that I spent
Was a poor manâs fortune but it didnât pay the rent
I made it one whole year
Think it went pretty well but Iâll tell you in a minute it was shorter than it felt
The nurse called my name and I hobbled to my feet
And the test results were good enough to let em set me free
Now theyâre tearing off my casts and Iâm trying to recall
How to walk and how to dance and how it feels when I fall
I pleaded with the judge and I cried to the jury
But my lawyer says itâs over and I really shouldnât worry
I thought Iâd get off clean but they heard my past was checkered
Donât they know a man is more than whatâs recorded on the record
So they hauled me off in chains and they showed me to my cell
Itâs a place that never rains itâs a steel umbrella