David Wilcox

All he needs to know
Is that when his life is over
All of his paintings will be prized

The fortune telling's good
If it gets him through the bad times
But this guy was paying me to lie

Every time he came
He complained about the business
The critics and the galleries are blind

He's living just the same
In the squalor of the masters
All of them ahead of their time

Every Sunday
He'd be in here again
For a reading of how the story ends

I don't mind pretending
The future looks bright
The customer is always right

All I had to say
Was that history would redeem him
A visionary worthy of acclaim

Some day there'd be fortunes paid
By all the great museums
For every piece of work that bears his name

He needed to believe
A story of  forever
To last him 'til the day he died

If I kept him from confusion
In the comfort of illusion
What would it matter if I lied

Every Sunday
He'd be in here again
For a reading of how his story would end

I don't mind pretending
The future looks bright
The customer is always right