I came, and I went there. I went there and came. I furnished my money, my loving and fame. I drank and I piddled, I piddled and sang, a song for Bukowski, for Bukowski I sang.
The low-lifes and hustlers, the ****** and the cops. The ***** in the bottle, the dives and the flops.
The racers and wasters, living on luck. For all of the chasers, I now raise a cup.
A song for Bukowski, for Bukowski a song. A song for Bukowski, Bukowski so long.