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 do to And if you like them, yeah But if you don't, its ot bad '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 saddest 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 underneath this tongue Is about our love