Suppose he's Buddha, or maybe Jesus
Christ, a mendicant testifying here
With his boots off already and I light
An incense stick, he says they're from the same
Factory as Tony Lamas and the
Only difference is the label and the
Sole and he only needs ten bucks to buy
Some food and I say we don't sell used boots,
Nor any kind actually as we're a pipe
And record store, but he has his pants off,
Jeans better than Levi's and just broke in,
He'll throw them in for a dollar or two.
The store next door takes clothes, but only on
Consignment and he needs to eat tonight
Or maybe a bag though he never says
It, I can tell he's low on something bad
To need, so I pass him the sawbuck and
Tell him to keep his bluejeans and put his
Boots back on as he's likely to need them
Where he's going, mention the soup kitchen
Downtown, though I know he's salivating
For a straw, or else a needle.  Someone
Else comes in, looking for Norwegian Wood.