Ask the man,
Turning sides,
Under a small rag,
He hides.
But the chilly wind,
Finds him,
And punishes him,
For crimes untold.
Ask him,
And he'll tell you,
Its not just the weather,
That's cold.
Every hour that passes,
Is a fight.
Time has never understood,
His plight.
On the pavement,
Shivering he lies,
Every second a car,
Passes by.
Indifferent,
Bold,
Heater on,
Wearing gold.
Ask him,
And he'll tell you,
Its not just the weather,
That's cold...