I walk these dirty streets
Mind can't catch no fill
And even if I do not walk alone
I know that soon I will.
Gettin hard to remember
Taste of sweat fresh from flesh
Month is late September,
My better mind has left.
Footsteps walking thin,
Can't keep no steady pace.
I feel that "swoosh" of not so distant cars—
They keepin me in place.
And not so long ago I was a child
Pure of heart and soul
But now that child's gettin' stoned.