How to hang a Warhol

Momma, someday you'll be so proud of me
You'll see me hanging in the New York gallery
Someday I'm gonna draw from the left side of my brain
People are gonna ask, 'is it brilliant or plain?'

But as long as I don't know
How to hang a Warhol
I keep sketching birds
That are all like herds
Very simple and true
Like, you know, when we doo doo
And if you like them, yeah
But if you don't, stop there
'Cause I really don't care

I said, Papa someday I'm gonna write a symphony
48-piece band all dressed up like me
I said, I'll write someday the satyrs of old songs
I'm gonna chill the marrow in their bones

But as long as I can't get
Into Carnegie Hall
I keep writing songs
That are all my own
Very simple and dumb
Like I always have done
If you like them, yeah
But if you don't, too bad
'Cause it's all I have

Ever since I met her
I keep thinking "God,
How great it is to play a guitar"
This way I feel
That she's always with me
'Cause every other song's
Telling me that this time
Is about our love