In the alley, the tosspots are quietly sleeping
Waiting for a little money to come their way
They are still there when tendrils, slowly creeping
Spread sunlight's first offerings of the day...
Engines cough and sputter in their struggling start
Preparing to fulfil their early morning rounds
The tamale man is carefully cleaning his cart
In the air, the faintest whiff of coffee grounds...
It's a small town on the edge of nowhere at all
People living in slow motion the American dream
Compared to big cities, things move in a crawl
Sometimes life is at a standstill or so it would seem...
Occasionally every vice from the city comes calling
Maybe not so often and surely a bit less vicious
Bits of gossip from a country town may seem appaling
But the intent seems to be a lot less malicious...
When people move to the country or to a small town
They are escaping from big city crime and such
They make fine neighbors and friends to have around
And they don't pry into your business, at least not very much.....
