Before saying that Van Gogh is crazy, know that he's on the roof and you're at the ground floor
Before saying he was insane, do a drawing with paper and crayon for me
Van Gogh, not a random guy, but one that at your age was reading Emile Zola
Shakespare in his heart [1]
Dickens in his heart
You, reading the DVD recorder's manuals
Him, three hundred letters, fine literature
You, one hundred and sixty characters, two emojis, the end
Him, London, Paris, Anvers
You, megastore, hypermarket, multiplex
Him, far away, but he knew everything about his brother Theo
You, living with your brother and not knowing a thing about him
Him, walking through fields, it inspires him
You, locked down at home with camprs on the treadmill
Well, from an initial estimate m dear boy
You should agree that
You're crazy
Not Van Gogh
Not Van Gogh
Not Van Gogh
You-you are crazy
Not Van Gogh
Not Van Gogh
Not Van Gogh
You-you are crazy
Not Van Gogh
Not Van Gogh
Not Van Gogh
You are crazy, not Van Gogh
You are crazy, not Van Gogh
Van Gogh
When he was sixteen years old he went to see some art collections
You, collecting Yu-gi-oh cards
Him, twenty years old in the Louvre's salon
And you, losing your shirt in a SUV's car showroom
Him oil paint on canvas, and he created paintings
You oil on muscles, and body buildings' contests
Him, country girls, models, prostitutes
You, spending your nights in your bed with the laptop
He's got a talent and you know it
You don't have it anymore
He, believes on himself