them vacant eyes
stare right through us
an' our black-and-white
like we're not drivin' by
not even here

look over there, Joe
two in a doorway
one on the curb
three at the dumpster
two on the dock
shoes off
warmin' feet
dryin' old clothes

shoppin' carts lined up
place holders at St. Vinnie's
eight for soup and bread

when there's a bunch of 'em
shopkeepers'll call the station
our radio'll crackle

we'll cruise back
swing our night sticks
bust some skulls
whack knees

scram
scatter
move on

you know, Joe, I keep spectin' to find
my momma down here some day...
her bein' ah alkie an' all.