That's all he wrote

There’ve been good times and bad, I’ve been happy and sad

I’ve been normal and mad, both nouveau and trad

I can never be James Bond; I’m a fish in the wrong pond

So it’s getting unlikely that I’ll patch up my psyche

In my second grave I’ll spin, before I balance Yang and Yin

Thank God Jung and Freud are dead; don’t want them inside my head

But to those who’ve known my history, there’s never been a mystery

We’re all different people under this sun, it's just that I’m from another one