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