I'm Not the Man You Think I Am Karen, I'm the Actor Tony Allen

By the time Tony Allen had put the final brushstrokes to the last of the screaming Popes, it became apparent that the actor had transgressed the fourth wall. He spent the lone days of his wilderness years replaying a vinyl 45, "I'm On My Way" by Dean Parish, over and over again. Then, one early December morning, as the needle hit the groove one last time, Tony Allen allowed himself a rare smile, for throughout it all, he held firm his conviction that abstract expressionism was the least noble form of art.
How's your father? Where's Sid James?
Carry on cottaging
Then it's off to the shrink at Ladbroke Grove
But Dr Laing's not in
Supplementary detail
A sketch is as good as a plan
When everything you've ever heard of
Is the work of another man
Langton's cock-a-hoop
Inhales on funny Woodbine
But the Artist Formerly Known As
Is having a bit of a mid-life
Annette Peacock tracks
And northern soul mags
He's the man with the thousand trick-bag
He's the man who spied the Mac
I'm not the man you think I am, Karen
I'm just the actor Tony Allen
I'm not the man you think I am, Karen
I'm just the actor Tony Allen
It's a Tony Allen world, and we just live in it
Yeah, it's a Tony Allen world, and we live in it
Annette Peacock tracks
And northern soul mags
Art's just art but it went too far, man
Now he can't get back
I'm not the man you think I am, Karen
I'm just the actor Tony Allen
I'm not the man you think I am, Karen
I'm just the actor Tony Allen
It's a Tony Allen world, and we just live in it
Coastal town, bedsit land
At the turn of the century
The children of HawHaw
Are blogging out at sea
Our man last seen alive
In a retail park in the south
Beside the corpse of Tony Allen
A memo to himself reads
I'm not the man you think I am, Karen
I'm just the actor Tony Allen
I'm not the man you think I am, Karen
I'm the actor Tony Allen
It's a Tony Allen world, and we just live in it