hard times for the poets
my friend
our traces on the walls
we circle around like dogs
girls don't notice us at all
their hair excites sorrow
the road to etrnity is long
we cross it without a word and in silence
hard times tor the poets
my friend
the parts were handed out long ago
and everyone goes his own way
daddys drink and trip as they sing
women avoid them crossing to the other side
kids crowded together push them around
they spit loudly and howl like beasts
hard times for the poets
my friend
people are beginning to look like
chickens
their eyesights bad and they go to sleep
early
and in the morning they scratch up dirt
packed into a pile of tobacco
their pockets soaked in the sweat ot their palms
they're everywhere you go boy
they're ewerywhere you go