On the day we moved out of residence in first year, I was given a tiny cactus by a close friend, to whom I was a bit of a schmuck shortly afterwards (I met someone else, who would become my wife of thirty-four years and counting). Having no aptitude for plants, I gave the cactus to my father, who had a greenhouse. The next time I saw it, it was in a larger pot and had grown into this great sprawling, spiky thing. The song was just me trying to distill all these ideas into a story. I once had an alternate kid-friendly version, but this is the original. I had a fever and the only prescription was more trombone.
Lyrics
I share my apartment with a cactus / I never have to water very much / Rarely has a flower I can look at / And it hurts if we accidentally touch / I call my friend The Finger / It’s the way he looked when he first came to me / And now he covers half the table / At suppertime he keeps me company / When you’re friends with a cactus, when you're friends with a cactus, when you're friends with a cactus it only hurts if you get too close / Well The Finger is a source of silent wisdom / He taught me all I need to know if life / That patience is the water of a union / And in deserts only cacti will survive / He’s been here ever since his momma walked out / She left him but took everything she owned / We’re waiting just in case she ever comes back / Show her how much he and I have grown / When you’re friends with a cactus etc It only hurts when you get too close