Who am I?

I surf a wave of despair

I’m damaged, fucked up, sad

If you’re afraid, I don’t care

I’m not just angry, I’m mad!

Can’t sing, can’t dance, can’t paint, can’t draw

That’s so passe. Done that, been there!

Being good at stuff is a bore

I am, like, hurt inside, yeh

If you interrogate my art

You’ll see it works conceptually

My genius? Where do I start?

Me me me me me me me me!

I wear my scars with pride

The artist’s pain, like Vincent

Come on my bare-knuckle ride!

In this tortured world I’m an innocent

Or am I? You will see ’em

As I turn a pound from this racket

Sex, decay, carpe diem –

The old tricks. I make a packet

I am out there; I’m feisty

My kind of thing is hot

Cos it’s, like, zeitgeisty

I’m a famous artist. You’re not!