Portrait a man of the past
Future secured by the stroke of a brush
Curled around the warm feel of the paint
That he trusted so well
Set seal on the artist's reply
Relayed through the portrait
Assessed through the language
Of love and emotion, it's true
So Picasso lies still, lies still
Distance, confusion attained
Relies on the artist to sign all the portions
As neatly as facts of clay
That were started so well
And so you may find the recluse
As busy as days that beset him to paint
All the sorrow and pain
And the future and wars, sad but true
So Picasso lies still, lies still lies still