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 body\'s pining, no silver lining
He has no home to go.