Testo Sidewalk Hobo

His footsteps echoed softly through the early morning hour The slowness of his move should be a warning From the trash he digs a pair of socks and yesterday's flowers What a way to start a monday-morning He might have been a carpenter at one time in his life Built a lot of homes but never had one Or he might have been a poet who'd come upon some hard times And all that he had lived was just them sad poems He might have been a singer whit a lot of promise Cigarettes and whisky ruined his throat And it's hard to remember even a simple tune Or the words to the songs that he had wrote Take me back to Memphis, I've got to do some things I've been in this city way too long And it lays heavy on my mind when I see another man Having to make the sidewalk, having to make the sidewalk his home