cross-town blues

reduced to a pauper with nothing to lose
the worst of your fears have come to be true
a pitiful soul with nowhere to go
a bum on the street with the blues

no clawing your way to the top
no six figure job to lose
no dress for success, no office or desk
just a bum on the street with the blues

alone without family or friends
no mortgage to pay, or gardens to tend
“will work for food” ...has come to be true
life on the street with the cross-town blues

no spirit to brighten the soul
pawing through rubbish must surely get old
“The Daily” for leggins, who cares about news
no bum on the street with the cross-town blues

life becomes basic survival
nights on the street are brutally primal
down for the count- beaten and bruised
a bum on the street with the cross-town blues

today you may pay all your dues
tomorrow is simply a muse
it may be OK or it may be a ruse
you could be a bum with the cross-town blues

S.A. Peck