Charles Bukowski - The Tragedy of Leaves lyrics

I awakened to dryness and
The ferns were dead
The potted plants yellow as corn
My woman was gone
And the empty bottles like bled corpses
Surrounded me with their uselessness
The sun was still good, though
And my landlady’s note cracked in fine and
Undemanding yellowness what was needed now
Was a good comedian, ancient style, a jester
With jokes upon absurd pain pain is absurd
Because it exists, nothing more
I shaved carefully with an old razor
The man who had once been young and
Said to have genius but
That’s the tragedy of the leaves
The dead ferns, the dead plants
And I walked into a dark hall
Where the landlady stood
Execrating and final, Sending me to hell
Waving her fat, sweaty arms and screaming
Screaming for rent
Because the world had failed us both