Jackson Heights - Tramp lyrics

The tramp sits in side streets His boots are all worn away A cigarette hangs from his loose lips Found in the usual way And he calls (And he calls) Shuffling through the streets And he knows (And he knows) Of friends he's not likely to meet He lies in a disused warehouse His hair is matted and grey Through meth elated eyes he sees The end to a perfect babe And he knows (And he knows) Their newspapers make up his bed And he knows (And he knows) As he lays down his weary head