bums
Yesterday I was back in the alley,
Broke and squatting, just like before,
Usually there's the same bums back in the alley,
But this time I counted one more.
This old bum looked familiar in his stove pipe hat,
He had long stringy hair, and he needed a shave,
His bow tie was covered in some kind of crap,
He looked like he'd just climbed out of a grave.
He also looked like a carnival clown,
In wide striped pants of blue, white and red,
Worn with holes in the knees and pockets torn down,
And his hat was kind of smashed on his head.
The lapels on his coat had some kind of spittle,
Over faded stars covered in grime,
The fly of his pants was ripped from the middle,
He looked like a victim of crime.
I watched him scrape dog food from a can,
His eyes, like jelly oozing from slits,
Then I realized he was my old Uncle Sam,
Ana somehow he'd lost his wits.
What you doing panhandling out here,
I asked him with a grin,
He said like is friends, he's begging for money,
And waiting for a Chinaman.