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Where the hell did it go? They say he spent it all on wine and women But even so-- I know a guy who wrote a song for Garth Brooks And now he's got it made for life But Mozart never really made a lot of money, And that's what I tell my wife. I'd like to know what happened to Poe's Investment portfolio Maybe he walled it up in that crypt With his good friend Fortunato I know a guy who knows Stephen King Who'll be a sheik in the afterlife But Mr. Poe never made much dough And that's what I tell my wife I accost her with tales of Stephen Foster And the visionary William Blake I say "Honey, you can't count the money That a genius doesn't make." But Wallace Stevens was also from Hartford, A big insurance man William Carlos Williams was a pediatrician And Eliot worked in a bank. Time will tell if they were poets as well Or if they're just big books on the shelf But most of my heroes never made a lot of money And that's what I keep telling myself What ever happened to Mozart's money--and what about van Gogh? I tell you there's more than blood that's red in the books of Edgar Allen Poe Imagination in large denominations is something you can never earn But the poor damned souls who made Mozarts money, still got money to burn Yeah, the poor damned souls who made Mozarts money, They still got money to burn Copyright 1995, Hugh Blumenfeld / Hydrogen Jukebox Music
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