Self Portrait

At last I knew the truth but the truth is I didn't really want to

I was famous for my portraits, for the likenesses I drew

I spent some time in Hollywood, I went to see the Queen

And it drew what it thought saw at all points in between

I tried religion but it wasn't any good at all

So I nailed an apple to my bedroom wall

I said two is less than three, it's final and it's absolute

Can I have a little less? Can I have less proof?

Well I never read the papers, I never watched the evening news

I made a series of paintings of Imelda Marcos' shoes

But it was out of my reach and at the end of the line

Well I died in the tide on a faraway beach

With a superstitious mind

I tried to make a self-portrait but it wasn't any good at all

They said I was rotten down to the core

Overworked, overwhelmed, over here and over it all

Struck by some feelings that weren't familiar at all

Well it seems to be correct that we're all fallible

And often work in ways that aren't entirely practical