Golden horses ride down the city streets
Starving children clutter beneath their feet
'Cause they haven't had enough to eat
And the sweat drips from their bones in the heat
Of today's sun
In their houses the rats have eaten all of the meat
down the hallways weary travelers often meet
and lay together in a drunken sleep
like all the dirt that needs to be sweeped
Up tomorrow
Broken ladies on street corners with plate-glass eyes
Frozen babies wake the morning with a cry
As sewerage pipes try to harmonize
With a sweet young mother's sighs
That color the night
When all have vanished there, still the hobo will sleep
for his bed is the gutter, the only home he knows is the street
He wakes in the morning and everything's gone
then vomits gently in the dawn
Of tomorrow, of tomorrow
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