King of the Hoboes - first draft of a new song

Hey.

At the heart of it, an artist is an obsessive.

Some people can parse and place aside an idea or emotion, get to enjoying the flittering now. Find lovers, cultivate caring and mutually healthy relationships. Eke out contentment and be satisfied.

But an artist, their knuckles torn, their breath ragged, they grab onto these small ideas.  Revisit them again and again. Edit a poem sixty times. Sing seven seconds of a new song they're writing on a loop just to themselves for hours in a dank apartment, matted with mold from a broken ceiling and a burst pipe from the room upstairs. Switch up the tone, the lift of a word, auditioning a synonym.

The mold is scrubbed, the paint dries. It's acrid and it burns in the folds of the throat. Still singing, still alone. Coming to the moment where the song finally makes the musical concrete and active. Not a gimmick. But a honest elegy about losing not just a mentor and father figure, but a culture. A subset of society now bandied about in modern association as a joke.

This is a venerable sickness.

Here's the rough draft of the song.

lyrics

first verse
barefoot and twenty
not a nickel to my name
chicago winter out for blood
king of the hoboes
good ole james how
crying in a jungle
from the dark he called me close
asked me for my story
lent an ear
king of the hoboes
good ole james how

chorus
god he was clever
he was so damn clever
when i begged for change he shook his head
took off the boot he wore and gave them to me
with a smile and a piece of bread

second verse
at the hobo college
where i learned to read and write
james saw the hope i once forgot
king of the hoboes
good ole james how
saw us bos as people
this forgotten little tribe
travelled round the country
spreading joy
king of the hoboes
good ole james how

chorus
god he was simple
he was so damn simple
left a half a million to be free
the way he saw it
werent no point in having riches
coming by so easily

third verse
five days ago
in the middle of the night
he caught the westbound made his peace
king of the hoboes
good ole james how
lord you never made another man so loving kind
and now hes gone his body free
king of the hoboes
good ole james how

chorus
theyve got a service taking place this evening
volunteered to speak they want me mum
dont want your kind around
youre a blemish on his nature
just another filthy bum

fourth verse
and here im singing
bout a man who shaped the world
but you didnt know him
not one bit
king of the hoboes
good ole james how
all you are is hungry
no kinship in your eyes
getting by on getting yours alone
king of the hoboes
good ole james how

chorus
oh god im foolish
see im so damn foolish
trying to keep the culture still alive
if theres someone out there who will share our story
see the hobo spirit thrive

fifth verse
well ive got nothing
but this weathered old guitar
and a homely face to tell my tale
king of the hoboes
good ole james how
all of us have moments
we can ease each others pain
shoulder up the wounded
sing and grin
king of the hoboes
good ole james how

chorus
god he was clever
he was so damn clever
when i begged for change he shook his head
took off the boots he wore and gave them to me
with a smile and a piece of bread