Many people going down the street.
You are immutable on your seat,
surrounded by cartons,
watching from your throne of the filth.

When the Social Services have tried
to get you off the street and get you inside,
you have never wanted,
answering: my ceiling is the sky.

Always see you with your little doggy,
sharing clothes and food… and company.
Always watching while life passes rolling.
So day after day… constantly.

You had a name before
when you lived… surely in a home.
Way of life that ended
cause inside you broke.

Walking with your shoes that have no soles
even in rain or hail.
Wearing filthy rags along your ways.

Your skein of hair and beard is like
your odd crazy mind.
Your four little things are very fine.

Even if you don't ask for anything,
people offer you their charity.
Never hurts to take it,
to buy some bread and some more, likely.

Always see you with your little doggy,
sharing clothes and food… and company.
Always watching while life passes rolling.
So day after day…
Constantly… constantly… constantly.