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I'm just a hobo, who hides on the train;
I've got me a bottle, which feeds, on my brain.
All I once owned has been stolen or sold
All I have left, are my memories of old.
I had a fine house, a family and sports cars;
I threw them all away for whiskey and bars.
I do most my dining from dumpsters and cans
What you would call garbage, I eat with my hands.
I'm just a sad soul, the saddest in town
Sometimes I look like a sick circus clown.
I lean on a lamppost in the bad part of town
In search of a doorway, where I might bed down.
I dream of those bands that played in the park
And all of those ladies, I kissed in the dark.
Those days are gone now, like the setting of the sun.
I’m just an old stallion that can no longer run.
Deprived of those blessings I once had in life
I now bust my bottle and use it for a knife.
The blood of my veins shall freeze on the street;
Where tomorrow they’ll find me at my defeat.
By Tom Zart
Tom Zart
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