Waiting For Van Gogh

Waiting for Van Gogh to come and paint my street

While waiting for Van Gogh
To come and paint my street
I made sure the canals were clean
And the cobblestones shine
And repaired all the broken pieces
But still Van Gogh didn’t come and paint my street

So I figured till he did
I better go get
Some paints and brushes
& stretch some canvases
Over some wooden frames
And I got some wooden shoes
And some real good hash
And I went outside and started
First I did the cars with their
Blistered shinin screaming, &
Then I did the cats and flea collars screaming
And I did the houses
And the fences and the cowards
And the glorious lizards
In their green humped sun
And I did the blue prayers
And the yellow golden death
& I did the orange firemen & the
Senators with guns
Tellin everyone who’d listen, that
Death is OK, but injury is not
‘Cause injury costs money but death does not
While I waited for Van Gogh to come & paint my street

Something is definitely happening tonight
I don’t care nothing bout nothing past tonight
Waiting for Van Gogh to come and paint my street

While waiting for Van Gogh to come and paint my street
I hadda lotta time ‘cause he
Took his sweet time
So I hadda lotta time
So I read every book
In the whole damn house
Then I read all the neighbors books
& soon every book
In the whole damn town
& then every book
In the whole damn country
& then all the books
Except for the books in India
‘Cause for some reason I
Resisted learning Hindustani, but
Then I got over it & learned Hindustani, and
Now I’d read all the books in the whole world
And I was getting bored with nothin left to read
So I figured that I better try to write one of my own
So I tried to write somethin but it
Wasn’t really happenin
So I went with a prostitute
Who did it for a hundred
And it wasn’t as good
As I thought it would be
‘Cause it felt a little clinical
Like goin’ to the dentist
We discussed all our options and the
Timing and the prices
& when I got home
I felt a little dirty
But not so horrible
And I started kinda scribblin
And I wrote down a title and my
Features and my colors
And I wrote about my mother and the
Corn and the rumblings
And when I got to where
There wasn’t more to say
I wrote down the end
& I looked out the window
But he wasn’t there yet
So I went and had a cupcake
While I waited for Van Gogh
To come and paint my street

Something is definitely happening tonight
I don’t care nothing bout nothing past tonight
Waiting for Van Gogh, waiting for Van Gogh, waiting for Van Gogh
To come and paint my street
Waiting for Van Gogh to come and paint my street

(lyrics: Dan Bern)

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