| Just an old panhandler begging for change
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| Got no money in my pocket, so nobody knows my name
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| Just the clothes upon my shoulders and this box wood full of strings
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| Just an old panhandler, just an old panhandler begging for change
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| There’s a presence in the darkness, so each night I lay awake
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| Pray to the stars beyond the street lights that if I die, my soul they’ll take
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| Just an old panhandler down on the streets begging for change I got no money in
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| my pocket, so nobody knows my name
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| In the alleys, stay the junkies where busted dreams lay like broken glass
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| And the highways loom with dusty drifters, thumbing the wind to forget the past
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| Just an old panhandler out on the streets begging for change
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| I got not money in my pocket, so nobody knows my name
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| Just an old panhandler, just an old panhandler
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| In glass castles plot the king’s men behind closed doors is where they play
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| With the fortunes of the people and the dreams of yesterday
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| There’s a stirring of the people, the concrete canyons echo their cries
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| They shake their fists and scream for justice, will the truth be brought to
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| light?
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| Just an old panhandler out on the streets begging for change
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| I got no money in my pocket so nobody knows my name
|
| Just an old panhandler out on the streets begging for change
|
| I got no money in my pocket so nobody knows my name
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| Just an old panhandler, just an old panhandler
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| Just an old panhandler begging for change |