Under bridges, beneath trestles in the boxcars of dead trains   Livin' to beat the cold of the pouring driving rain   A silent society moves out in the night   Ragged rebels, homeless hobos and those like me who've lost the light      St. Peter is a prophet to all the hobo world   An expert on everything from caviar to girls   I met him west of Memphis on the 8th of July   He handed me a can of beans and a rusty knife      And he said "Everything out here ain't what it seems   And when you're down to nothing, just go ahead and dream   Face the fact that you're circle in a world full of squares   Trading sorrows for tomorrows, now that's the hobo's prayer"      Mother Mary is a lady from down in New Orleans   She's seen a lot of living since she was 17   She said, "I'm bona fide and worldly wise, with original parts   'Cept for what set me to traveling, I'm talking about my heart"      She said, "I can spot a broken heart from 20 miles away   So are you passing through or have you come to stay   You're running from a woman" she said with a grin   "So what've you got to say" and I said, "I am a pilgrim"      Where everything out here ain't what it seems   When I'm down to nothing, I just go ahead and dream   And face the fact that I'm a circle in a world full of squares   Trading sorrows for tomorrows, that's the hobo's prayer   Trading sorrows for tomorrows, that's the hobo's prayer