Words and music: lou reed & john cale      The trouble with a classicist he looks at a tree   That's all he sees, he paints a tree   The trouble with a classicist he looks at the sky   He doesn't ask why, he just paints a sky      The trouble with an impressionist, he looks at a log   And he doesn't know who he is, standing, staring, at this log   And surrealist memories are too amorphous and proud   While those downtown macho painters are just alcoholic   The trouble with impressionist is   The trouble with impressionist is      The trouble with personalities, they're too wrapped up in style   It's too personal, they're in love with their own guile   They're like illegal aliens trying to make a buck   They're driving gypsy cabs but they're thinking like a truck   The trouble with personalities is   The trouble with personalities is      I like the druggy downtown kids who spray paint walls and trains   I like their lack of training, their primitive technique   I think sometimes it hurts you when you stay too long in school   I think sometimes it hurts you when you're afraid to be called a fool   The trouble with classicists is   The trouble with classicists is