What am I doing here?
I don't even know.
Just counting the cars
On the freeway below.

Feet on the sidewalk,
and hands on the rail.
My spirit is weakened,
My skin becomes frail.

The grey clouds above,
drop a torrent of rain.
A fitting addition,
to the depths of my pain.

I have no home to go to,
and no place to be.
My eyes are wide open,
but there's not much to see.

What I am doing here?
I don't even know.
Just counting the lights
as the cars pass below.