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