they are...
addicted to bad news
and singing the blues
because it's the easy way to lose.
blowing smoke up their nostrels and telling stories off booze
is their vent.
they don't have money to pay the rent
so they live in cardboard boxes and all them tents.
they are indians to a certain extent.
they are the native corner owners, but have been driven away by "NO LOITERING" signs.
they are the offspring left behind.
they have everything we seek to find,
but becaue they lack currency, we are blind.
blind to their treasures.
we're so lost in our spoiled world we'll be seeking to find forever.
they say never say never.
so i'll just say ever.
hey there poor fella'.
it's raining and that box can't ever get wetta'.
so please do me a favor,
'cause it's only for my pleasure,
and stand under my um ber ella.