Hands thrust in pockets you walk and mutter
Thoughts alleyways of unwanted clutter
Watches rather looking at the nutter
Squinting two wild cats across the gutter

For all wrongs in life become the weeper
Cry o’er some scraps boilin’ in a steeper
For not mercy of the market keeper
Safe from clutches of the dark grim reaper

Sadness that’s lost in the slums and ghettos
Inspired in such classical libretto
Pours out like the smoothest amaretto
Sung an opera of such fine falsetto

Homeless and wandering drifting afloat
In a turbulent sea so sails your boat