Living On The Streets - Poem by John Churchill
It is pouring rain and freezing cold,
these city streets aren't paved with gold,
I'm sleeping rough and growing old,
and 'move along' I'm getting told.
Living on the streets
Haven't had a bite to eat,
frostbite fingers, blistered feet,
people passing on the street,
and now the rain has turned to sleet.
As I look for shelter.
Why did I leave, why did we split,
should have made a go of it,
was all my fault I now admit,
can't blame her one little bit.
I cheated on my dearest.
Don't pity me as you walk by,
if you've never seen a grown man cry
just take a look and wonder why,
how I wish that I would die,
Then no more living on the streets.
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