It’s not that complicated
No more than a clench of fist —
She want to paint her heart out
She want to tell it as she sees it is Authority condemns her
They say to paint’s a waste without a base
Some bedrock of idea
Painting by numbers doesn’t add up Painting by numbers doesn’t add up It’s passionless bed-rest
Work-body that’s headless
A head that’s without heart —
Painting by numbers doesn’t add up to art
Her constant vows mean nothing
Not content alone that sells —
The Market Theory beckons
No-one remembers what the story tells;
No-one remembers passion
We just recite the line
That art is fine and fashion costly
Painting by numbers doesn’t add up;
Safety in numbers, put your hands up In mute surrender…
They’ll break her or bend her
For the heart on her sleeve
Painting by numbers all the modern world believes
And the whole thing falls apart
When the movement’s more important than the art;
When we’re more concerned
With what’s been thought than said
This is the moment when the culture’s dead
It’s not that complicated
It’s simple as can be:
She want to paint her heart out
They want a programme for the BBC
Where academic critics can talk of art that’s fine
Like holy wine — the Blessed Intellectuals!
Painting by numbers, safety in numbers…
The poets from Venus assume that they’ve seen us —
They’re quick to depart
Painting by numbers doesn’t add up to art