Many years ago in the dim lit backside of downtown.
i saw old men, in old dirty suits, with slightly over grown tapered hair cuts, slicked back with grease.
i heard raspy voices, wild tales about adventures on the road.
it was like a private club, out on the sidewalk.
i saw them conserving cigerette butts by rolling.
eating two dollar breakfastes and drinking dollar drinks all day.
i saw them eke out tomarows living peddling, pitching, and performing for small bills.
i saw them working manual labor, looking out of place in their suits, dirty and torn.
like saints.
they were that town right down to the accent, it was written all over their face you could smell it all over em and every town has one of em.
the noble vagrant.
he knows where everything's at........... just ask him some time.
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