The man in rags asked, “Do you have a cigarette to spare?
I have eight cents to my name,
Broke from gambling away with Life’s little game.”
Man in rags, in this life, no one’s going to care.

The people you’ll meet will tear you down
And temptation will fire up real quick.
Man in rags wandering the town,
Don’t burn to ashes like an eighty cent cigarette.

A fading tin cup fills the empty spaces,
But, not a soulless shell of a man.
Don’t beg in front of unfamiliar faces
Because the greatest pleasures won’t drop in the palm of your hand.

Not everything works out the way we’d like,
And sadly, cigarettes don’t fall from the sky.
Lessons come and they go.
Yet, your lack of eighty cents is starting to show.