Street People

Street People

Tortured soul , he walks the streets

Never enough food, no place to sleep

Lost all he had, this once family man

Now he picks through the garbage, looking for cans

For some strange reason he's adopted our street

Picking up paper, keeping it neat

Sweeping the parkways, with a piece of a broom

Never says much, just whistles a tune

He keeps his head down, almost never looks up

Stops to sip coffee, from an old nasty cup

He'll take if you offer, tipping his hat

He's real busy working, no time for a chat