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I was painting a still life this morning |
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Of a throat lozenge sitting on a copy |
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Of Tropic of Cancer |
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The only thing weird about it |
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Is that a year ago, |
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I never thought I' d paint anything again |
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I decided I wasn' t ever gonna paint again |
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It didn' t bother me too much |
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Warhol' s dead, |
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David Hockney' s still alive |
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I don' t need to paint |
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I painted over ten thousand paintings |
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Sad ones, funny ones, dark ones, and light ones |
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I' ve done haystacks |
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And rich old ladies by their pools |
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Wearing nothing but a scarf |
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I' ve painted everything there was to paint |
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Now it was time to sit back |
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Give interviews |
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Hang out at club med |
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Get on the internet |
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Take stock of what I' ve done |
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You know, the best friend I ever had was a dog |
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It sounds like a cliche unless it' s happened to you |
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Some days that dog was the only reason I even got out of bed |
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That dog went everywhere with me |
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And then I heard the crack addicts |
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Were stealin' dogs and selling them for animal research |
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It sounded like an urban myth to me |
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Like the mouse in the Coke bottle |
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But I started leavin' her at home after that |
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You know, Paula was my wife for a while |
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She ran off to Paris with the great grandson of Van Gogh |
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A cartoonist who did fashion graphics for Le Monde |
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When Paula left she took my dog |
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I never saw her again |
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Except in the court during the custody battle |
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She won and got to keep the dog |
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And I didn' t speak to anyone for months |
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You know sometimes it feels |
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Like there' s so much that you need |
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Sometimes the world is upside down |
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Sometimes it feels |
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Like the only thing you need |
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Is holdin' someone' s hand as you walk through town |
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I started hanging around with Dino |
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He used to run a poker game back east |
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Now he sells cappuccino to his old pals |
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Tommy Chicago and Jimmy the Wig and Ugly Rose |
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You know the best person I ever knew |
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Was a Mormon woman named Estelle |
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She still calls me drunk every few months |
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And asks me stuff I don' t want to talk about |
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You can' t talk to her very long unless you' re drunk yourself |
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Then we go all night |
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She says, " Why baby, why baby, why baby, why |
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Have you turned your back on love? |
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You had so many chances |
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Why have you let ' em all go by?" |
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Well, one morning I was sitting in front of Dino' s place |
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with Jake the Shears, a guy from Philly |
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Who gives free mohawks |
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There were a couple of young painters |
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I was hopin' to come by |
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So I could give ' em some advice |
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Yeah, I was sittin' there updating my list of enemies |
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When this girl walks in |
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And the universe kind of stops |
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Turned out she drank the same tea as me |
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It don' t take more than that to start a conversation sometimes |
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She believed collage was the greatest of all the arts |
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And was busy pasting pictures of horses |
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Next to ads for laundry soap |
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Next to Mohammed Ali |
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She had a turquoise in her ear |
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And said Rachmaninoff was always in her head |
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Later that day I was trying to describe her to Jimmy the Wig |
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I couldn' t find any words |
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And I realized I' d started to sketch her chin |
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Somehow it didn' t look right |
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I scratched it out and tried it again |
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I filled an entire pad |
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I threw it away, I never even came close |
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For six days I sat at Dino' s place |
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The rain wouldn' t quit and no one came in |
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Finally on the seventh day it cleared |
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And in she walked |
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I asked her to sit with me |
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And ibought her a cup of tea |
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And I asked her to model for me sometime |
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That afternoon I was at a canvas |
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She was wearing a yellow dress |
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I swore if she let me, I' d get it right |
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I' ve painted over ten thousand paintings |
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Sad ones, funny ones, dark ones, and light ones |
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But sitting there, it was like I couldn' t even |
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Write my own name |
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I apologized and said, " It' s been a few months |
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If you have patience, I' ll get the hang of it again" |
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In the next few weeks, I painted her hundreds of times |
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If I get the nose right, the chin' s too long |
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If I get ' em both right, the face is too thin |
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But I keep after it and one day |
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I get it all right |
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I painted a still life this morning |
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Of a throat lozenge |
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sitting on a copy of Tropic of Cancer |
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The only weird thing about it |
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Is I never thought |
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I' d paint anything again |
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I think I might go visit Estelle |
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Those Utah mountains are good for the soul |
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I' ll bring my brushes |
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And some Jack Daniels |
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And we can make up for lost time |
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She said, " Why baby, why baby, why baby why? |
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Have you turned your back on love |
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You had so many chances |
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Why do you let ' em all go by? |
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Why baby, why baby, why baby why? |
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Have you turned your back on love |
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You had so many chances |
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Why do you let ' em all go by?" |
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Sometimes it seems like there' s so much that you need |
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Sometimes the world is upside down |
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Sometimes it seems like the only thing you need |
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Is holdin' someone' s hand as you walk through town |