R yells to God and the angels that revolve in his head He’s on that rock That hard place J likes the bottle they watch each other’s back B talks to the unseen eloquent when he touches Earth Clothes torn dusty funk smelling doesn’t want your help no thank you No medicine, no white coats Ms. V mother to the streets Soft spoken and clean Wont stay in a shelter wont stay in any where Compassionate hearts have tried She’ll sometimes click and cuss you out hug you tight the next day BR is a hustler to his soul born from too little and way to late Once knew soft arms and a home that’s the way that is My partner was tough enough on the streets of Portland Following dreams and a piece of tail
M & R got that boulder on their back he makes her walk the streets S was running from spirits pissed herself sometimes laying under a tree Sometimes we roam the park Give out cans of franks and beans crackers anything we have in our pantry Her and I Go to church and feed them casseroles beans whatever people bring 100 plus hungry mouths come through my line I smile say God Bless You Be Safe I am supposed to say something wise or meaningful How the streets keep some let some go But I don’t have it to give
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