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