Out on the street
Under the stars
Lives a man
With pickles in jars
In a ripped tweed jacket
And blue suede shoes
He thinks he’s elvis
Singing the blues
The demon drink
Has destroyed his brains
But life isn’t over
As it runs through his veins
He Battles the foxes
Over the bins that they share
And swears at people
Who see him and stare
His name is Francois
And his home is a bench
If you ask him a question
He’ll answer in french
The eccentric forgotten star
Still likes to entertain
Watchers showing interest
A distraction from the pain