I met Mr. Warhol the other day
His eyes were tired and his hair gone gray
He took my hand as we walked along
And I heard him hum a tuneless song.
I asked him how it felt to die
He turned to meet me with a sigh
He said it was whiplash and gasoline
"It burns your nose and makes you sneeze"
I asked him if he missed his art
He kissed my cheek and stopped my heart
"Child, what I miss the most is life.
Living, running, the thrill of the fight,
But throwing caution to the wind won't make you brave.
One day we'll all share a grave."
He held my hand and raised it high
Then said, "Now, girl go paint the sky."
And that's when my alarm began to ring
Awaking me from my Wonderland dreams.