It’s so quiet and peaceful to sleep under the stars,
on a warm summer’s night you can sleep feeling easy.
Until at three in the morning, just before light,
the birds in their roosts, awake and take flight.
But it’s not so simple in the depths of winter,
moving out of the country and into the city.
Laid in a doorway well lit, by the lights of the showroom,
in a cardboard box shivering, and shaking with cold.
Trying to get warm, hoping for sleep, staying cold and awake,
and the snow and the frost gets into your bones.
When the blaring music crescendos, then suddenly stops,
and the club doors open, to spew out the club goers.
Where will it all end, this purgatory on Earth,
this living hell, no food to eat, no warmth, no sleep.
Will somebody help us, we under class people,
or must we live out our lives, in hopeless despair?