Cold Dog Soup lyrics

Now William Butler Yeats in jeans

Got up to play guitar and sing

In some joint in Mission Beach last night

At the door sat Tom Waits

In a pork pie hat and silver skates

And he's juggling three collection plates, Jesus Christ

Townes Van Zandt standing at the bar

Skinning a Hollywood movie star

And he can't remember where he parked his car

Or to whom he lost the keys

But he's full of angst and hillbilly haiku

What's a poor Ft. Worth boy to do?

Go on, rhyme something for 'em, man

Show 'em how you really feel

There ain't no money in poetry

That's what sets the poet free

I've had all the freedom I can stand

You got your cold dog soup and rainbow pie

All it takes to get me by

Fool my belly till the day I die

Cold dog soup and rainbow pie

Ginsberg and Kerouac

Shooting dice and playing Rambling Jack's guitar

With the cowboy painting pick guard on it

And they sat in the back and drank for free

And they rhymed orange with Rosalie

Now there's a pride of lions to draw to

There ain't no money in poetry

That's what sets the poet free

I've had all the freedom I can stand

Cold dog soup and rainbow pie

All it takes to get me by

Fool my belly till the day I die

Cold dog soup and rainbow pie