PICASSO’S KITCHEN 2001

Sitting here in Picasso’s kitchen
This does not need an explanation
Quasi rhymes and para rhythm
Self hypnosis, mysticism
Osiris waits for his own Isis
Symbols for a midlife crisis
Woke up this morning, found I’s mortal
Looking like hell in paradises

Could recite the ABC, but I never got too fluent
Counted upto 3 and then I played the truant
Get writing boy,better earn your keep
Then drink enough to dream to sleep

(Used to trip so hard on LSD
Could throw a window through a TV)

Now I only ever hear my heart these days
Through headphones or earplugs
Okay for me to be this drunk
An accepted norm for drugs

So you think I’m the type of genius
To bare and bravely grin it
But I’m really just a dustbin, babe
With very strange shit in it
From the Great Work unfinished
To the completed Dregs
I’m rusty strings just hanging
From some plastic tuning pegs

And still you haven’t sussed
My revolution plan at all
Come the evolution, man
There’ll be no bloody wall
Forgo the swastika, the hammer and sickle
Get an au pair on speed for some slap and tickle
Or nothing could be sweeter
Than a mature schoolgirl Lolita...

So I just start with a good title
Then it’s all downhill from there
Or an illegible scrawly line
When I’m right out of my hair
Got two condoms and Viagra
Let’s exchange the clothes we wear

This does not count as modern art
What would Picasso say?
He’d say
‘Make sure you get a good price, that’s a start
And if you do, olé!’