As I walked out upon Stockton street
One fine September day,
I saw a girl in a coffee shop,
And here's what I heard her say:

Alas, my love is a genius,
And why was I saddled with such.
He's up in his tower
About ev'ry hour,
But doesn't come down with much.

Chorus:
Oh heavenly breath of glory
That breathes in the soul of man,
Why can't you do something with Charley
And make him get off his can.

Alas my love is a genius,
He wants adulation for free,
He has a deep feeling
That folks should be kneeling,
But the only one kneeling is me.

(Chorus)

Alas my love is a genius,
He deals in meter and rhyme,
He seeks inspiration
Through yogi prostration,
And work is a waste of his time.

(Chorus)

I understand his reluctance
To enter the marts of trade,
He wouldn't do well
At the old hard sell,
But couldn't he handle a spade?

(Chorus)

He couldn't do T.V. commercials--
You know how a poet feels--
He's off and away
From this world of clay,
But he always comes back for meals.

(Chorus)

I guess that I'm stuck with Charley,
I love him for better or worse,
But I'm second-guessing
That art is no blessing,
And love is a terrible curse.

Last Chorus:
Oh Heavenly breath of glory
That breathes in the soul that's free,
If you can't do something with Charley,
Won't you please do something with me.

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