There was a poor man sleeping silently, newspaper wrapped around his cryin' eyes and skinny, stomach tucked Can I spare a dime? I'm saving up for another to kill this empty stomach burns (it burns it does, yea) There was a rich man walking hurriedly, Gucci winter wear wrapped around his Tag watch and fattened belly tucked I got spare change but why waste it on another An anonymous man getting' funked up
Spit on a humble hand I am ready, I am ready Hung from a ceiling fan I am dirty, I am sweaty Come down the road again, humble hand held out to another
A wind is blowing, pages sell veteran green wrapped around his cryin' eyes and poison blood alike I got a medal that I won for savin' another They don't know what it's like to be funked up
Spit on a humble hand I am ready, I am ready Hung from a ceiling fan I am dirty, I am sweaty Come down the road again, humble hand held out to another