She gave me a postcard of Van Gogh from a
Little random state street thrift store
She wrote down her number and said did you know
That was wheatfield of wild crows
She said her heart done did her wrong
I'd give her mine but she don't have long
If a work of art is in a song
Would you buy the record and sing along
And I said
If I had Picasso in my pocket would you call it love
Would you call it love
If you got the beat and gonna drop it
I would pick it up
I would pick it up for you
I would pick it up for you
I would pick it up for you
Would you call it love
Would you call it love
Picasso in my pocket
I told her all about my bad deeds
And how I cope with tragedy
She told me all about her travels
Then said I love you in Portuguese
I couldn't think of what to say when
She took the romance out the question yeah
I can't imagine though it makes sense
But we all wanna be human
And I said
If I had Picasso in my pocket would you call it love
Would you call it love
If you got the beat and gonna drop it
I would pick it up
I would pick it up for you
Still buzzed from the rush of the Moscow mule
She's wali g me up and she's crawling right thru my head
I'm on the edge of holding on and letting go
If I had Picasso in my pocket would you call it love
Would you call it love
If you got the beat and gonna drop it
I would pick it up
I would pick it up for you
Would you call it love
Would you call it love
Picasso in my pocket