On the streets is where I lie,

Obscured from the peasants,

Merrily sauntering by,

Maybe, an opaque veil besets me,

From the niggardly world,

My infinite prayers never seem to be heard.

 

On the streets is where I cry,

Hiding in the twilight,

Tears trickling from my eyes,

My kids ask,

'Are you all right?'

'Yes, the sun is just glistening to bright,'

 

On the streets,

Am I safe?

Of the cold, violence and the human race,

On the streets,

Am I sound,

If my shattered hopes keep submerging to the ground.

 

Am I a rat scouring for a meal?

Searching ravenously for its infants,

Who come tearing at their heels,

They don't deserve this life,

With perpetual hunger and strife.

 

On the streets is where I lie.

On the streets is where I cry.

On the streets is where I sigh.

On the streets,

WILL... I... DIE...?