Open your doors, let us in!

You can absolve us all of our sin

Let us worship together in these hallowed halls

Bow to the icons hanging on walls

Herald the new religion

Though the rules remain the same:

Lambs still led to the slaughter

Shepherds still counting their gain

But there’s no religion can compare

To that of modern art

And there’s no business quite like the business

Of dealing in the human heart

Frame the human spirit

Then hang it on a wall

Make ’em dance while you call the tune

Make the infinite small

Render it safe

Give it a name

Force a confession

Make the artist explain

The disposition, the exposition

The acquisition of art

But there’s no religion can compare

To that of modern art

And there’s no business quite like the business

Of dealing in the human heart

Art thou still trying to break free from Rome

A rebellious child who wants the comforts of home?

The imposition, the deposition

The demolition of art

Herald the new religion

Though the rules remain the same:

Doges denouncing the names

Critics still fanning the flames

We’ve built our pristine chapels

In every city you’ll find

Where the lights are so bright

The walls are so white

The blind must lead the blind

We cannot see the primary

Colour of our own bleeding hearts

For the colour of money has turned our heads

So we patronise the arts

And we stand in awe before those at the door

And we patronise the arts

Heart dealers – false prophets

False healers

High priests of pain

Babylon’s whores on the gain

But there’s no religion can compare

To that of modern art

And there’s no business quite like the business

Of dealing in the human heart

But the heart rescinds

As the intellect wins

In the name of modern art

Modern art

Modern art

Modern art

Modern art

Art

Sacra conversazione

Ars moriendi

Arte povera

Scratch your head

Sit and stare

And you try and explain pictures to a dead hare

© Felicity Buirski 1987