Trouble with Classicists Lou Reed, John Cale

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[Verse 1]
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 the sky

[Verse 2]
The trouble with an impressionist - he looks at a log
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

[Chorus]
That's the trouble with impressionists
That's the trouble with impressionists
That's the trouble with impressionists
That's the trouble with impressionists

[Verse 3]
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

[Chorus]
That's the trouble with personalities
That's the trouble with personalities
That's the trouble with personalities
That's the trouble with personalities