Charles Bukowski - Cornered lyrics

well, they said it would come to this: old. talent gone. fumbling for the word hearing the dark footsteps, I turn look behind me… not yet, old dog… soon enough now they sit talking about me: “yes, it's happened, he's finished… it's sad…” “he never had a great deal, did he?” “well, no, but now…” now they are celebrating my demise in taverns I no longer frequent. now I drink alone at this malfunctioning machine as the shadows a**ume shapes I fight the slow retreat now my once-promise dwindling dwindling now lighting more cigarettes pouring new drinks it has been a beautiful fight still is