a rusty carriage with personal belongings  accommodations in a cardboard shelter  wretched clothes to insulate warmth  a soup kitchen line in frigid weather  beg and plead for passers' change  provides your food for this hard days work  live day-by-day, don't consider tomorrow  yesterday's paper will be today's comfort  now there's a dying man living on the streets  he's freezing and ill with nothing on his feet  under the bridge is where he stays  on a bed of trash is where he lays  doesn't ask for much but sincerity  when he begs for spare change so that he can feed  but you kick him down, what gives you the right  then the question's asked, "Why don't they value life?"  reluctantly living on the street  though for some it's not their fault  they had a disease that they could not stop  born schizophrenic right from the start  they sit on the bench and count the clouds  they don't know what's real or who they are  while you lift your nose and walk right by  you laugh and say that they're just insane  never asked for poverty, never asked for disease  never asked for you to push them down to their knees  why do you turn them away, are you that afraid  your attitude only helps them dig their grave  homeless, cold, diseased and alone  you take for granted that you have a home  they once did too but if you only knew  how people judged them as they grew  maybe the majority is on drugs  and maybe they do it for survival  maybe it's for the warmth they supply  or for the feeling that they give all  to put a smile on their face  make them feel good and not disgraced  gives you the image that they're all crazed  when your greed is what put them there in the first place  maybe death for them is better on drugs  'cause the pain without them is just too much  turned to for the security they provide  is better than living a painful life  you say that they are just all bums  drink and drugs are all they love  well they'd love life just like you  if they were given the chance too  --  (Before I save this file and spread it around, I just want to mention  that it is one of THE best records I own. The lyrics, while seemingly  off-rhythm and grammatically garbled at times, strike right to the  heart and mind, as you have just seen. The music, while not too  complex, is hauntingly catchy and has a quality of growing on you.  Anyway, I hope to type up some more lyrics soon by The Pist, Aus  Rotten, Brutally Familiar and Progress. If you have any requests, you  can email me at the address given at the top of this file. Also, just a  word of warning, I wrote a 4-page letter to the band at their PO Box,  and after a month I have still not received a reply, either a phone  call or a letter. And having met Picasso several times at shows, I can  definitely say that his attitude problem is not at all reflective of  his intelligent and insightful lyrics. Oh well. I'm out).