Truckload of Art - Terry Allen

    Once upon a time…
    Sometime ago back on the east coast
    In New York City, to be exact…
    A bunch of artists and painters and
    sculptors and musicians and
    poets and writers and dancers
    and architects
    Started feeling real superior
    to their ego-counter-parts
    Out on the West Coast…so,
    They all got together and decided
    They would show those snotty surfer upstarts
    A thing or two about the Big Apple
    And…they hired themselves a truck
    It was a big, spanking new white-shiny
    Chrome-plated cab-over
    With mudflaps, stereo, tv, AM & FM radio,
    Leather seats and a naugahide sleeper…
    All fresh
    With new American Flag decals and "ART ARK"
    Printed on the side of the door
    With solid 24 karat gold leaf type…
    And they filled up this truck
    With the most significant piles
    And influential heaps of Art Work
    To ever be assembled in Modern Times,
    And it sent it West…to chide
    Cajole, humble and humiliate…the Golden Bear.
    And this is the true story of that truck…
    A Truckload of Art
    From New York City
    Came rollin down the road
    Yeah the driver was singing
    And the sunset was pretty
    But the truck turned over
    And she rolled off the road
    Yeah a Truckload of Art
    is burning near the highway
    Precious objects are scattered
    All over the ground
    And it's a terrible sight
    If a person were to see it
    But there weren't nobody around
    Yeah the driver went sailing
    High in the sky
    Landing in the gold lap of the Lord
    Who smiled and then said
    "Son, you're better off dead
    Than haulin a truckload
    full of hot avant-gárde
    Yes…an important artwork
    Was thrown burning to the ground
    Tragically…landing in the weeds
    And the smoke could be seen
    Ahhh for miles all around
    Yeah but nobody…knows what it means
    Yes…a Truckload of Art
    Is burning near the highway
    And it's a tough job for the highway patrol
    Ahhh they'll soon see the smoke
    An come runnin to poke
    Then dig a deep ditch
    And throw the arts in a hole
    Yeah a Truckload of Art
    Is burning near the highway
    And it's raging far-out of control
    And what the critics have cheered
    Is now shattered and queered
    And their noble reviews
    Have been stewed on the road

    Marco Giunco
    Work Basket Music Words