Living In the Street True Story

Not a pretty place to live, some do what they have to do It can be a jungle and the natives are not friendly On a deep freeze night, the warmest place is in jail Most nights, drug addicts and wine litter the avenue One that claims to be your friend, can become deadly Not a road to glory, most are bound to fail Crack head whores are now, " the ladies of the night" Have not bathed since who knows when, no teeth in their head Their soul is no longer for sale, that is long gone Do anything for one more rock, then thing will be alright In a dark alley, most are found dead The coldest part of the night, is just before dawn Daylight invades darkness, they roll up their concrete bed Find a beer can half full, that is breakfast Anything in a dumpster, is Thanksgiving dinner During the day, monsters and demons play drums in their head Night time comes, once more they will try to forget their past On a loser's boulevard, there is not a winner I know this to be a fact, for two years I lived on the street Part was research but not by choice, as I wrote a book Been poisoned twice, God did not let me die Believe them when they tell you, "No telling who you will meet" Been to the back side of Hell and back, but that is what it took I never did drugs, saw all of this with a sober eye From the book, "IN THE BEST INTEREST OF A CONSPIRACY" by Danny Nunn Filled with Judges, Witches, Lawyers and Whores