text: 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
  The madman hangs in fancy homes
  They wouldnt let him near
  Hed piss in their fireplace
  Hed drag them through Turbulent Indigo
  Im a burning hearth he said
  People see the smoke
  But no one wants 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