The city’s his sheet music and lights his notes
And at the end of every line there’s a bar
Where rain pisses razorblades on a cat tin roof
And he punches drunk through fresh chilled mist
With nothing but an old rolled blanket of shame
Steel wool beard rust stained and frozen with guilt
And he smells like a corpse down from the cross
And his holy mitts shake for no reason except habit
And his mind won’t remember questions or answers
But somehow his lips shape words when needed
He knows it’s a lie but the truth just the same
Can you spare me a dollar or two?
Can you mister anything will do?
My friend little sister anything will help
Get me back to my family my wife and kid
So long without me I miss them so much
Show me some kindness in a world without justice
And someday someway I will reward you
Thankyou kind sir thankyou dear lady
May angels from heaven bless you this day?
I’ll remember you well in our last hours of judgement
I’ll remember you well if I’m called as a witness
For though I may seem like the scum from the sewer
I’ll have you know I’m the King of the Turds!
Dean Meredith
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/street-music-3/
