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jackson heights - tramp lyrics

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the tramp sits in side streets
his boots are all worn away
a cigarette hangs from his loose lips
found in the usual way

and he calls (and he calls)
shuffling through the streets
and he knows (and he knows)
of friends he’s not likely to meet

he lies in a disused warehouse
his hair is matted and grey
through meth elated eyes, he sees
the end to a perfect babe
and he knows (and he knows)
their newspapers make up his bed
and he knows (and he knows)
as hе lays down his weary head

- jackson heights lyrics

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