Ghost Writer

Oh I used to stay up every night
I be so all alone
In my hand my trusty pen
I work it to the bone

Ghost writer, writer, writer, write
Everybody thinks I’m doing fine
Ghos writer, writer, writer
I’m gonna lay you down a line

I used to live down on Ludlow Street 1964
Then I was so innocent
But now I know the score

Ghost writer, writer, writer, writer
That’s what they call me by name
Ghost writer, writer, writer
For fortune and for fame

We got Shakespeare, Spencer
Sydnеy too
We all know what they do
I’m a poet of a kind
I know that you arе too

Ghost writer, writer, writer, writer
Just tryina’ make my way
Ghost writer, writer, writer
I’m gonna lay one down today

We got Chaplin with his funny face
Jolson with his mask
Movie stars all in a race
I’m going to Hollywood at last

Ghost writer, writer
Like a phantom on the trail
Ghost writer, writer, writer
Yesterday I paid back all of my bail

I got buffaloed down on Barrow Street
Everybody knows it’s true
Now I’m standing on my two feet
You’re with me and I’m with you

Ghost writer, writer
I’m a New York city son
Ghost writer, writer, writer
Just tryna’ have my fun

I’ve been writing down these old stories now
For ’bout eighteen years or so
People are startin’ to call me a genius
I gotta’ tell ’em no, no, no, no

Ghost writer, writer
Tell me what do you have to do
Ghost writer, writer, writer, writer
To get your story through