Faces cracked for reason beyond recognition

His space is at the Palace

He sleeps for twenty five cents

Now he's wiping headlights windshields with an old rag

It ain't nine to five

Down and dirty he's an old tramp

He poses like a dead man

The night train passes by Money's not the answer for princes and dancers

He's standing under street lights

He's thinking of his old life

He lost his pretty young wife

The corner is his big plan

His brunch with Jim and jitters

Boston blue laws ain't for shitters

And newsprint is for cheaters

Cement mattress for believers

Now he's shooting power curves

His buddies think he's got some nerve

Missus Face had other lovers

Her arms smothered other numbers

He freezes

Christmas season all Saints protect him

His face is cracked for reason beyond recognition