an ordinary man, #2, or san fran frankie

frankie takes his life where he can find it, sometimes
down on 6th street, sometimes running with the
oakland boys, and sells his favors to the bankers

in the hollow, sings puccini like sir elton in his bath,
he is an ordinary man and sleeps in poor confusion,
knows that moonlight fills the night with lies and

fabulations, so he goes in search of glory, from the
dawn, from the bars and from his rooms that want
his monies week by week, but he likes a single-malt

for breakfast, rare merlots with caviar and toast, he
hoards his labels like a floozie, gathers memories
from the tawdries on the street, he would be famous

my ordinary man