Print

Like a fly batters itself against a window Time and again and again it senselessly blunders Up and down the length of West Broadway the bag lady wanders Fifty cents rent goes pretty far when you live in a subway car One stop's the same as another Even Son of Sam sees her sleeping, she's not worth the bother Sorrow, do they ever want to cry Do they see us pass by Where do they come from (simple answers) Do they come falling, falling from the sky like rain Crawling up the basement drain Misfits and black sheep Former brothers, friends of mothers There is no yesterday, there is no tomorrow There is only now and that hardly matters No one cares about sad old ladies with bags full of tatters One day it gets a bit too cold Maybe a little too wet, maybe a little too lonely Lifelessly she lies amidst her bag world But maybe she's only sleeping From Letras Mania