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 anothe