Spice saves you from the cold
Scrambling desperate for heat
Hands out with head back twitching
Begging at my feet
In shop doors on the floor
Never seen a higher street
Zombies with good manners
Trying to catch a nights sleep
Sparking fires in cans inhaling dark
Warming hands by freezing hearts
In sight of prams out in the park
Laying wasted on a landmark
Their minds, bodies and money is all spent
Nasty habits got them here
Nothing for food, nothing for rent
Nights spent on streets in constant fear
Stumbling blind side into me
Old tracksuits combating crisp cold
Not searching for cheap silence or throwaway sympathy
Not trying to fit a societal mould
Like a dear in the headlights they stare
So startled, so close to the ending
A thinking mans ******
I’m the ignorant man stood, pretending
That I can’t see you there
Craving synthetic highs
Because if it’s natural it’s not aloud
Packaged up in labs and factories
Down the supply chain to customers who sleep on cobbled ground