a rusty carriage with personal belongingsaccommodations in a cardboard shelterwretched clothes to insulate warmtha soup kitchen line in frigid weatherbeg and plead for passers' changeprovides your food for this hard days worklive day-by-day, don't consider tomorrowyesterday's paper will be today's comfortnow there's a dying man living on the streetshe's freezing and ill with nothing on his feetunder the bridge is where he stayson a bed of trash is where he laysdoesn't ask for much but sinceritywhen he begs for spare change so that he can feedbut you kick him down, what gives you the rightthen the question's asked, "
Why don't they value life?"reluctantly living on the streetthough for some it's not their faultthey had a disease that they could not stopborn schizophrenic right from the startthey sit on the bench and count the cloudsthey don't know what's real or who they arewhile you lift your nose and walk right byyou laugh and say that they're just insanenever asked for poverty, never asked for diseasenever asked for you to push them down to their kneeswhy do you turn them away, are you that afraidyour attitude only helps them dig their gravehomeless, cold, diseased and aloneyou take for granted that you have a homethey once did too but if you only knewhow people judged them as they grewmaybe the majority is on drugsand maybe they do it for survivalmaybe it's for the warmth they supplyor for the feeling that they give allto put a smile on their facemake them feel good and not disgracedgives you the image that they're all crazedwhen your greed is what put them there in the first placemaybe death for them is better on drugs'cause the pain without them is just too muchturned to for the security they provideis better than living a painful lifeyou say that they are just all bumsdrink and drugs are all they lovewell they'd love life just like youif they were given the chance too--(
Before I save this file and spread it around, I just want to mentionthat it is one of THE best records I own. The lyrics, while seeminglyoff-rhythm and grammatically garbled at times, strike right to theheart and mind, as you have just seen. The music, while not toocomplex, is hauntingly catchy and has a quality of growing on you.
Anyway, I hope to type up some more lyrics soon by The Pist, Aus
Rotten, Brutally Familiar and Progress. If you have any requests, youcan email me at the address given at the top of this file. Also, just aword of warning, I wrote a 4-page letter to the band at their PO Box,and after a month I have still not received a reply, either a phonecall or a letter. And having met Picasso several times at shows, I candefinitely say that his attitude problem is not at all reflective ofhis intelligent and insightful lyrics. Oh well. I'm out).