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