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 wouldn't let him near!
  He'd piss in their fireplace!
  He'd drag them through Turbulent Indigo
  "I'm a burning hearth," he said
  "People see the smoke
  But no one comes 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."