Food for thought

Booze and fags and scallywags
Is what he\'s come to meet,
Hags and rags and paper bags
Blowing in the street.

A night so dark, a filthy spark
It\'s all so real to see.
A silent bark, another park
Can lost souls also be free?

A constant whining, no fine dining
He\'s not a friend, nor foe,
His bodies pining, no silver lining
He has no home to go...