Do you know what it’s like to be homeless on the streets?
Go about your business, sir; don’t worry ‘bout me.
I used to have a wife; I used to have three kids.
Once my life was partly strife; now that’s all it is.
I don’t know what to have for my next meal.
I’ll have the bread; I’ll skip the veal.
I’ve got the homeless blues*;
The blues are in my cold, chapped skin.
I may go to the shelter and check myself in.
They have three-course meals there.
It’s not great, but it’s enough.
It’s pretty cold when you’ve been sold a life on the streets.
When your fabric’s split it’s hard to make ends meet.*
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