Andy it’s me, haven’t seen you in a while
I wished I talked to you more when you were alive
I thought you were self-assured when you acted shy
Hello it’s me
I really miss you, I really miss your mind
I haven’t heard ideas like that in such a long, long time
I loved to watch you draw and watch you paint
But when I saw you last I turned away
When Billy Name was sick and locked up in his room
You asked me for some speed, I thought it was for you
I’m sorry that I doubted your good heart
Things always seem to end before they start
Hello it’s me, that was a great gallery show
Your cow wallpaper and your floating silver pillows
I wish I paid more attention when they laughed at you
Hello it’s me
«Pop goes pop artist,» the headline said
«Is shooting a put-on, is Warhol really dead?»
You get less time for stealing a car
I remember thinking as I heard my own record in a bar
They really hated you, now all that’s changed
But I have some resentments that can never be unmade
You hit me where it hurt I didn’t laugh
Your Diaries are not a worthy epitaph
Oh well now Andy — guess we’ve got to go
I hope someway somehow you like this little show
I know it’s late in coming but it’s the only way I know
Hello it’s me — Goodnight Andy…