Some people say he's a deadbeat.
He's all alone, a man without a home,
He doesn't know where to go to sleep.
His home is somewhere on the street.
Most people pass him by,
They won't look him in the eye,
He is cold and tired and lonely,
with holes in the soles,
as the cold wind chills his feet,
His home is somewhere on the street,
His shoes are worn ,
He was born
Just like you and me,
He has the same heartbeat.
I wouldn't want to wear his shoes,
I know he pays his dues,
Some of us win, some of us lose,
The truth is bittersweet.
Sometime I weep,
For that man on the street.
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