My dead friend Barbara’s Art
Hangs on my wall
On a Thursday afternoon
No mystery coming through
She was a falcon of the king
Some kind of bottisatva
An Alabama wind
Took her back again
And there she was
CHORUS
My dead friend
My dead friend
My dead friend Barbara’s art
My dead friend Barbara’s art
Hangs by the book she wrote
I have a whiskey with Duane
We talk about everything
On a Taos afternoon
CHORUS
My dead friend
My dead friend
My dead friend Barbara’s art
(c) Webster