Songs about Going Nuts in a Museum (in France, possibly)

Gone with the wild wind
Like it was a dream
Preserved now for all to see
Like nothing you've ever seen
Right this way
To the Museum of Love
Right this way
You've got to see 'em
It's love love love
This is right here where he stood
When he wrote those sacred words
And he made a holy vow
And these are the drawings and his library card
And this is the cow
See it all
In the Hall of Sadness
Please don't miss
The Exhibit of Madness
As legend would have it
He had this nasty habit
Of a longing that was wronging himself
But still he would persist
In fact he would insist
That there was nothing nobody could do to help
He really loved her
He really did
And his love went 'round and 'round
And though he tried to keep it hid
He had lost what he had found
He had lost what he had found
Now all this pain preserved for all to observe
But please don't touch
It's an inspiration to think or try to believe
That someone could love someone that much
So now we declare a new holiday for lovers everywhere
For each and every one to have their own share
He would have liked it that way
Right this way
To the Museum of Love
Right this way
You've got to see 'em
It's love love love

Well in the Amsterdam museum I was feeling bad,
And trying to find a way not to be that sad.
I felt the feeling in the room sincere,
Vincent Van Gogh well he seemed so near.
-Jonathan Richman, "Vincent Van Gogh"

He wants an altered state
Inside the mansion walls
She says she'd rather wait
Yeah, for evening to fall
But still the cap they ate
And with a drink they chased
The ghost that called

They went to celebrate
They went to have a ball
Everyone gathered at the gates
But it wasn't good at all
The sky was turning grey
They laughed at their mistake
As their skin began to crawl

Hey but it's too late for to go back now
They closed the gates and the scene was set
Enter into his kingly cave
Don't worry the leopards won't bite you
Wipe that big tear away

See, they got jumpsuit on a headless cast
Polished jewels under two-inch glass
And bullet holes in Vernon's room out back
Don't worry the posse won't shoot you
No more crying today

He's tripping over graves
As rain begins to fall
And finally they escape
When the shuttle bus is called
The mourners now abate
As one begins to say:
"I scream I scream for all"

I think this is my favourite "Songs about ..." thread ever.

Artist/Band: Terry Allen
Lyrics for Song: Truckload of Art
Lyrics for Album: Lubbock (On Everything)

Recitation:
Once upon a time…
Sometime ago back on the east coast
In New York City, to be exact…
A bunch of artists and painters and
sculptors and musicians and
poets and writers and dancers
and architects
Started feeling real superior
to their ego-counter-parts
Out on the West Coast…so,
They all got together and decided
They would show those snotty surfer upstarts
A thing or two about the Big Apple
And…they hired themselves a truck
It was a big, spanking new white-shiny
Chrome-plated cab-over
Peterbilt…
With mudflaps, stereo, tv, AM & FM radio,
Leather seats and a naugahide sleeper…
All fresh
With new American Flag decals and "ART ARK"
Printed on the side of the door
With solid 24 karat gold leaf type…
And they filled up this truck
With the most significant piles
And influential heaps of Art Work
To ever be assembled in Modern Times,
And it sent it West…to chide
Cajole, humble and humiliate…the Golden Bear.
And this is the true story of that truck…
A Truckload of Art
From New York City
Came rollin down the road
Yeah the driver was singing
And the sunset was pretty
But the truck turned over
And she rolled off the road
Yeah a Truckload of Art
is burning near the highway
Precious objects are scattered
All over the ground
And it's a terrible sight
If a person were to see it
But there weren't nobody around
(Yodel)
Yeah the driver went sailing
High in the sky
Landing in the gold lap of the Lord
Who smiled and then said
"Son, you're better off dead
Than haulin a truckload
full of hot avant-garde
(chorus)
Yes…an important artwork
Was thrown burning to the ground
Tragically…landing in the weeds
And the smoke could be seen
Ahhh for miles all around
Yeah but nobody…knows what it means
Yes…a Truckload of Art
Is burning near the highway
And it's a tough job for the highway patrol
Ahhh they'll soon see the smoke
An come runnin to poke
Then dig a deep ditch
And throw the arts in a hole
(Yodel)
Yeah a Truckload of Art
Is burning near the highway
And it's raging far-out of control
And what the critics have cheered
Is now shattered and queered
And their noble reviews
Have been stewed on the road
(chorus)

Good choices, all.

"checking out Leta with that swan pecking at her pink egg tempura nipple... hey, what that swan be doing? and why?"

I laughed.

If I were to walk through the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston
Well first I'd go to the room where they keep the Cezanne
But if I had by my side a girlfriend
well, I could look through the paintings
I could look right through them.