The evidence lies
before your very eyes in the cardboard cities and the plastic tents, where poverty rents bedspace for the night.
No friends in here, only beer and **** and a passport someone drags across a sweating brow,
Insulation tape and heat does not escape, you'll learn this trick when you're down and out and you'll find that names do stick.
******
dosser
lounger
mission hall scrounger but what's in a name they call,
when you fall through the mesh have yourself another sesh' on the pipe, with the pin, supping out the dregs of one more tin.
When it rains, when the drains all overflow, when you know it's time to go and you don't know where, they'll be there taking strands of DNA from the few strands of the hair that you have left.

Cardboard cases cut out faces, barred from all those lovely places that we all take as our right
another bedspace for the night.