Lyrics:

He was selling postcards from a paper stand a whiskey bottle in his withered hand he put a finger on a photo from an old magazine and saw himself in the shadow of his dream They found him with his head inside a tin-pot crown told him his feet stank and took him downtown called him agitator, spy and thief shut him up in solitary third degree take a long line, reel him in He tried to appeal to the king of might he said