Through the New York winter

With rags around her feet

Clutching ancient shopping bags

Destitutions beat

Burned out like a frozen matchstick

Screaming at the wall

A helpless hungry lady

With no friends to call

Chorus:

I wonder

Where she goes when the night falls

What thunder

Has made us deaf to her calls?

Bag lady...

Oh gloveless, shattered frailty

The damp wind bites her hands

She shuffles by a restaurant

Towards their garbage cans

She eats the rotten refuse

Like vermin on the dead

Screaming at the passersby