Conceptualist Cowboy Song

Conceptualist Cowboy Song

Oh, it’s been a long time going

Since you sang me any songs

So I’d like to take this time right now

To say I’m movin on

7,8,910,11

Counted petals to your name

I’d really love to impress you dear

But in the end it’s all the same

When I said I needed money

On that summer afternoon

You laughed at me and took pity

And said you’d be there soon

Then you drove down to my city

And crawled inside my bed

When I wrote you 80 sonnets

You poured wine over my head

I’ve been collecting cowboy songs

And Andy Warhol prints

Finding babies in the magazines

Std’s in my bacon bits

Oh it’s been a long time going

And I can’t say that I’d mind

If they started on my coffin

And told me when it was lined

I’m a young conceptualist artist

I was born in 1812

I died around the Yeltsin years

When I was stabbed by Christmas elves

So I think I’ll soon be leaving

Leave my shadow on the wall

When you take it down and wash it

I won’t be missed at all