To be an artist was to have failure as your constant bedfellow.

The verse is supposed to get you hard so the chorus can suck you off.

...there was a natural comorbidity between sexual appetite and sexual jealousy, between the desire to fuck and the desire to kill.

We're all prostitutes if you think about it. The whole capitalist system is built on meretriciousness. You sell your body or you sell your mind, and the Cartesian mind/body thing is a fallacy anyway, your mind is just your brain, so it amounts to the same thing really.

The painter knew that color was not something you controlled but something you set free. He believed that color knew its way home.

Artists are those who can evade the verbose.