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
Copyright © Danny Nunn | Year Posted 2009
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