| All that I possess is my existence, vagrant more or less
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| Children on the pave, mither bad, but help me through my day
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| This borrowed cigarette, for which my heart will leap and it will laugh
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| A debt to you my friend, I owe but I’m afraid I can’t repay
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| Because I’m Joe, the street lamp is my home
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| From place to place I like to roam
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| The cold wind blows right through my bones
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| The cold wind blows right through my bones
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| My barrow I gave away, 'cause the muscle which pulled grew weaker every day
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| This soldier crossed the sea, but now the maker wages war on me
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| This heart is still so proud, of all the things the soldier once achieved
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| But when you’re vagrant, man, no-one wants to know about such things
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| Because I’m Joe, the street lamp is my home
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| From place to place I like to roam
|
| The cold wind blows right through my bones
|
| The cold wind blows right through my bones
|
| Because I’m Joe, the street lamp is my home
|
| From place to place I like to roam
|
| The cold wind blows right through my bones
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| The cold wind blows right through my bones |