text: He talks a lot but never talks to anyone at all
  He shakes his fists at busses and old posters on the walls
  He knows someone who knew something about J.F.K
  But his friends are just the shadows in the halls and alleyways
  The rumbling frozen pipes whisper secrets in the night
  In the coffee grounds, his fingers sketch a portrait of his wife
  She knew the legal eagle when his wings swept through the stars
  Before he shut the furnace down and sealed away his heart
  Its Gauguin gone Hollywood again
  A sleeping giant inside a rabbits skin
  Tahitian doors beyond the painted veil
  Another simple mind adrift
  Like Gauguin going Hollywood again
  The day lacks color, days are duller than a butter knife
  Rusty water running through hands out of touch with life
  A man of independent means, hed have us all believe
  A soul who throws his wings away before he goes to sleep
  If only for a moment, the dead weight were alive
  An invitation for the flame to shine a light inside
  Illuminating darkness, giving him release
  Then someday in his trash can well find a masterpiece
  Like Gauguin going Hollywood again