Another Winter morn he'll greet
a night of wind and blinding sleat
though just awake he feels deadbeat
it's hard to move from lack of heat
but move he must, there's death to beat
the man who walks the street
Another day, another drink
to stop his mind from trying to think
others see him cower and shrink
he looks at them and tries to wink
but he knows they just smell his stink
a man who's on the brink
His bank account is obsolete
he says he just forgets to eat
the DSS, his claim complete
he tries his best to keep them sweet
but they enjoy his daily defeat
the man, penniless on the street
Lucid moments, always brief
can't remember more than grief
seldom experiences self relief
abused and treated like a thief
a broken heart is his motiff
the man who stares in disbilief
Would love to sleep in satin sheets
use a bed and not concrete
Be invisible, Be discrete
not be kicked by others feet
taste the sweet of bitter sweet
the man who's dying on the street
Lives a life that we would dread
constant voices in his head
hears every insult that's unsaid
not a public tears' been shed
life now hanging by a thread
the man who wishes he was dead
Another day's end on a station seat
he lays down on his carboard sheet
he finds his breath hard to repeat
he feels the bluness of his feet
a loving glance he might now meet
his life now spent with no reciept
the man who died today, on the street
