I was painting a still life this morning Of a throat lozenge sitting on a copy Of Tropic of Cancer The only thing weird about it Is that a year ago, I never thought I'd paint anything again I decided I wasn't ever gonna paint again It didn't bother me too much Warhol's dead, David Hockney's still alive I don't need to paint
I painted over ten thousand paintings Sad ones, funny ones, dark ones, and light ones I've done haystacks And rich old ladies by their pools Wearing nothing but a scarf I've painted everything there was to paint Now it was time to sit back Give interviews Hang out at club med Get on the internet Take stock of what I've done
You know, the best friend I ever had was a dog It sounds like a cliche unless it's happened to you Some days that dog was the only reason I even got out of bed That dog went everywhere with me And then I heard the crack addicts Were stealin' dogs and selling them for animal research It sounded like an urban myth to me Like the mouse in the Coke bottle But I started leavin' her at home after that You know, Paula was my wife for a while She ran off to Paris with the great grandson of Van Gogh A cartoonist who did fashion graphics for Le Monde When Paula left she took my dog I never saw her again Except in the court during the custody battle She won and got to keep the dog And I didn't speak to anyone for months
You know sometimes it feels Like there's so much that you need Sometimes the world is upside down Sometimes it feels Like the only thing you need Is holdin' someone's hand as you walk through town