In the last days of September
Winds were blowing down our blocks
Knocking down, the dead old trees
Rocking ferries and the docks
Popped a benny, drank some beers
Then pissed off the fucking pier
They cursed the god who made the winds
Of piss drenched shoes and socks
Lend me this month's rent, my dad just bought a round
You'll get your money right before I leave this town
Lend me this month's rent, I'm working underground
Claiming all my riches, at the lost and found
For a while I was painting houses
In San Francisco coastal lots
In the evening I would drink my wages
On the weekends, down the slots
The bartender raved at me
Over a lousy cup of tea
"You must be a phony drunken poet
'Cause I've fucked all the jocks and cops!"
Lend me this month's rent, my dad just bought a round
You'll get your money right before I leave this town
Lend me this month's rent, I'm working underground
Claiming all my riches, at the lost and found
My dad just needs to get some air
He's underneath the vents
He's begging for a chair and he'll lend me
This month's rent
This month's rent
My friends are all stoned and booking venues
While I'm lying on the floor
My dad worked for 35 years
I believe I'll work for more
I < caught ___ > with a shot
Then I < chased > with what I got
If you are waiting for me
Your ass just might meet the fucking door
Lend me this month's rent, my dad just bought a round
You'll get your money right before I leave this town
Lend me this month's rent, I'm working underground
Claiming all my riches, at the lost and found
Phony Drunken Poet Lyrics performed by Filthy Thieving Bastards are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Phony Drunken Poet Lyrics performed by Filthy Thieving Bastards is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD