Two Basquiats

I was sitting in a room and I looked up to see
Jean-Michele Basquiat looking back at me
The beautiful King in a second hand suit
Feet planted firm through the holes in his shoes

There he sat in an old wooden chair
He shyly played with the dreads in his hair
Then someone burst through the door with a slam
It was a second Basquiat with his head in his hands
2 Basquiats in the room with me...

Jean Michele II wore the weight of his rage
He paced through the room like a lion in a cage
Grumbling about some existential war
Convinced that surely he had fallen short

But the one in the chair, he spoke calmly and sweet
Reached out to his twin to take a load off his feet
He rubbed on his back and he gave him a squeeze
And tried his very best to put the worried one at ease
2 Basquiats in the room with me...

There are 2 beats in every heart
The one that's light and the one heavy
There are 2 sides to every man
The one that can and the one that can't just be
There are 2 Basquiat's in the room with me...

The second Basquiat he jumped up with a bolt
He was ever more angry that he couldn't be consoled
Then King Basquiat shrugged his shoulders and grinned
"I guess some people gotta have a reason to live"
2 Basquiats in the room with me...

There are 2 beats in every heart
The one that's light and the one heavy
There are 2 sides to every man
The one that can and the one that can't just be
There are 2 Basquiat's in the room with me