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
