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