| Hands locked in darkness
|
| A nocturnal greeting
|
| We flutter like moths 'round the brazier’s flame
|
| Shrouded in shadow
|
| Our clandestine meeting
|
| Here where past and present are one and the same
|
| No-one dies in Cardboard City
|
| Faces only fade away
|
| Eat your pride and take their pity
|
| Fight to live another day
|
| And did those feet in ancient times
|
| Walk bare upon these lonely streets like mine?
|
| Does God watch us from that penthouse high above
|
| His children down below who live on air and love?
|
| Wrapped in old headlines beneath this shop awning
|
| I shiver in silence and wait for the morning
|
| No-one dies in Cardboard City
|
| Faces only fade away
|
| Eat your pride and take their pity
|
| Fight to live another day
|
| No-one cries in Cardboard City
|
| That would be a waste of tears
|
| Eat your pride and take their pity
|
| Like you have so many years
|
| Youth of our nation
|
| A lost generation
|
| Like lepers we march to the chimes of Big Ben
|
| Exiled and rejected
|
| By powers elected
|
| Our cries from the gutter don’t reach number ten
|
| Give us this day our daily bread
|
| Before the headlines read «bring out your dead»
|
| Chip-wrapper flowers are blown onto this cardboard grave
|
| My spray paint epitaph upon the wall it says:
|
| «Here lies the bones of some poor homeless vagrant
|
| He died as he lived; |
| in the shit of the pavement»
|
| No-one dies in Cardboard City
|
| Faces only fade away
|
| Eat your pride and take their pity
|
| Fight to live another day
|
| No-one cries in Cardboard City
|
| That would be a waste of tears
|
| Eat your pride and take their pity
|
| Like you have so many years |