• 3/11/18 10:16 am
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- Format
- Java
- Model
- Steve
0
I remember that guy who sat near the station, clutching his can like a glass.
He had a hole in his pocket, a hole in his sock, gambling each soul to pass.
He begged for a coin, with his can made of tin, and spent in on gin and wine.
His shoes dusted brown and his face shone blue, lit up by a neon sign.
He had a hole in his pocket, a hole in his sock, gambling each soul to pass.
He begged for a coin, with his can made of tin, and spent in on gin and wine.
His shoes dusted brown and his face shone blue, lit up by a neon sign.
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