Portrait of the Artist as an Old Man

[Intro]
I've had several requests to do this song tonight
This is a song I wrote about Phil Ochs about six months before he died
This is called "Portrait of the Artist as an Old Man"

[Verse 1]
He's one of those poets marked for death
In the dear old Hemingway style
With lecherous leftover wisdom
And a disarmingly treacherous smile
But now he's a drunkard on the IRT
In a harmless and homeless way
If you put him on the witness stand
He would not have much to say
He'd just tell you how it feels to be
Layin' on the tracks of age
Alone

[Verse 2]
He was born down on Henry Street
Where the gypsies take their toll
And learned the hard way against the wall
Where the dice take their toll
They say he got caught stealin' cards
But they don't give a damn
'Cause they've got fifty-one more
And he's already showed his hand
And bein' crowned a winner
Is only bein' half a man
When you're alone

[Verse 3]
Well, he liked his women in sleazy stockings
With the number of holes just right
For fightin' a case of virtue
With frozen tracks of fright
With blisters between fingers
Where hate has claimed its wealth
But saving souls is dangerous
And hazardous to your health
But their company, though damaged
Is better than what he felt
Alone

[Verse 4]
You got to cross that bridge without stoppin'
Like it's the only one in town
Those pieces of yourself you are droppin'
They're just tryin' to drag you down
The life you stole in paper cups
A few drops at a time
The excuses used for dreams
That you drank down like wine
The litter you called literature
That you know ain't worth a dime
And the malicious slurs like sewage
That seep through the cracks of rhyme
And the Coast Guard just picks up the leftovers
Tryin' to keep 'em alive
And alone

[Outro]
He's one of those poets marked for death
In the dear old Hemingway style