I’m sick of life in the hobo jungle I’ll have to concoct an escape I’ve marshalled my resources my charms and brittle toys but nothing’s ever real so I’ll keep my place wait for my moment you don’t need an excuse to be poor you don’t need a uniform to fight in the war but you need a little faith to help you through the night it’s a long way from cleaning windows but it’s hardly sunny side up I’m like you I have lived in the odd moment and I remember what you said in your little voice you said “I think I’ve had enough, so thank you and good luck” I didn’t require your ministrations I expected no gratitude for mine but I could have used your hand these last ten thousand miles
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