Sleeping under the stars

Or under the underpass

counting the cars.

It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

Don’t believe me,

Try it yourself and see.

Waking up with a banging head

And your first thought is

I wish I was dead.

And you know your feet stink

So you start to bloody think,

I need  a beer.

I want a can of tenants,

But the banging in your head

Reminds you of a penance

So you sit instead and pray

For the ending of this day

So you can quietly creep back

Back into the dirty old sleeping sack

Counting the stars

Hearing the cars

Under the underpass.


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