Frank E Gibbard Posted October 15, 2011 Share Posted October 15, 2011 In the cold of his box Future to unfold lots More knocks as a state Unkind he's sure to find A pitiful fate alright For man dispossessed And little if any rest On pavements bleak For those who seek A vital drip of sleep Who restless tramp Days drearly damp Then wearily slump In the human dump In this city's heart Close to real wealth Not one bit sharing In worst of health So few really caring Flotsam of the road A people set aside Of no fixed abode Most cannot abide Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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