Josh Martinez 5g4w1i

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    Hobos Lullaby 4b4e11

    Josh Martinez 5g4w1i


    Let me tell you about a man I know
    who lives down on the rails
    Let me tell you about a way of life
    when the city ends and the road begins.
    When it wasn’t so hard to make your way
    before taxman comes and take all your pay
    then one day you just get sick of it all
    and walk down the tracks and drift away

    Verse 1:
    On a fine sunday morning, see an old man yawning,
    the hobo woke up underneath the grocery store’s awning
    I give food to the this dude and pay attention when he mentions/
    that the city’s gone all shitty its idiocy is insidious
    the epitome of pity in the soundbites
    and brown lights of a cityscape that’s oh so pretty

    Sitting on stoops he spits out truths
    his old ways worked going old school always.
    plus it didn’t hurt the lord lurked in his hallways
    used to hear him shouting to god he’d call all day.

    He never heard back ()but he kept on trying.()
    Until one day he stopped and noticed he was crying.

    Breakdown:
    His face is old and his teeth are gone
    his pace is slow but he shuffles on
    he mumbles in tongues and speaks with a slur
    I swear if you see him you address him “yes sir!”/

    people talk and stare as they walk by and glare but they knew they couln’t do what he did could do they wouldn’t dare
    the real deal hobo hasn’t settled or stopped,
    been going strong for so long and yet still haven’t dropped.

    Don’t drive a car and he doesn’t get emails
    he smells like an ogre and repels most females.
    cursing out customers outside the store
    scaring the children while working the door

    And noone calls on his birthday to wish him well
    sometimes the lonely gets him he misses someone who listens well
    he hasn't had a friend in who knows how long
    and it seems he's always singing the same damn song

    Chorus:
    Day old donuts and cans of beans
    dumpster chicken and river greens.
    hopping on trains with lysol for wine
    just another trip to the end of the line.

    Verse 2:
    one day I went looking for a man I’d often heard about
    about the only thing I knew about this man was that he’d been sighted
    by the nieghbors lighting fires in their trash cans
    he used to smell the drying linen by the window spying looking
    trynna to see into their lives and how they lived behind the glass
    most of all he dreamed of ways to try to free them from the vast
    empty space in which they raced around and paced holes in the hallways
    absorbed by their walls and embraced by their wasteland

    Verse 2

    as he lay in the shade by the tracks where he stayed
    in the shacks that were made by these quacks who obeyed
    no code the open road would give him guidance, they’d focus
    through blindness flash potion flask under overcoat liners.

    emotions run high when it comes to relations
    when all you really need is patience.
    night watch not on they must've caught the dose or quota
    the coast was clear he steers the tracks like a hobo’s suppose ta

    a man like this is more than just a name on freights,
    he's lived his life in crates and spent late nights in fields
    and forced great laughs/ despite always having to run real
    hobos don't slow down or on a hoedown/

    How down? So down? Hit the road then the soda
    had a bud in Minnesota hop a freight to dakota
    some hobos go crazy get a little liquor in em
    get to thinking they’ve been victim too long to shake the feeling

    it’s a dying breed, a violent seed it needs a constant sponsor,
    the road is much colder when not holding some golden/ liquid glowing/ sipping wino/ hi rolling/ dumpster dinner listerine/ fine candlelight dining

    Dribble and Crumb, North American Bum.
    what you use to stir coffee with? spoon or a thumb
    Dribble and Crumb, North American Bum.
    what you use to stir coffee with? spoon or a thumb

    hey where you going what’s the rush why the hurry,

    maybe one day he’ll forget the pain,
    pack it all in and catch the westbound train.
    but for now he’s just hanging for who knows how long
    just riding the rails singing the same damn song

    Chorus:
    Day old donuts and cans of beans
    dumpster chicken and river greens.
    hopping trains with lysol for wine
    just another drink to the end of the line.

    Going for broke I’m homefree
    I roam from home to home but where I’m at in his home to me.

    catch the westbound train – curtain call
    hobo convention – butte montana king of the hobos
    highballer – trains you can ride on (express to cities)

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