Micky the minstrel boy was singing on the pavement,
Strummin' his guitar, tryin' to make merriment,
People walked by, it don't seem they gave a damn,
His tin never rattled all the time I watched him,
He burned out his boots trying to make 'em look,
But all to no avail, all his audience turned tail,
Too busy with their business, seems they couldn't care less,
He's just another minstrel boy tryin' to find success.
Cross eyed Mary is tryin' to earn some money,
Standin' by the streetlight tryin' to look a honey,
Kerb-crawlin' gentlemen slowly passin' where she stands,
Don't bat an eyelid, never mind a helping hand,
Tight fisted wasterels lookin' for an angel,
Only see a witch a-standin' in a ditch,
Poor cross-eyed Mary, she never earned a penny,
She should have worn clean clothes, hell, she ain't got any.
Drunk Tom, in a bar, drinkin' whisky by the jar,
Lookin' in the mirror, countin' all his battle scars,
Raw, hard liquor takes its toll on the liver,
Hard edged memories only make him quiver,
Fist fights, drunken brawls, broken hearts and all,
Life's so much harder when your living in a gutter,
No way out of the spiraling depravity,
Too drunk to stand up, can't fight the gravity.
Tommy's on the dole again tryin' to cash a giro,
Didn't sign the dotted line, he ain't got a biro,
Paid off by recession, hard to make the breadline,
Candlelit dinners no longer come with the wine,
His life has been dissected, his family feels neglected,
Can't afford the luxury of a family holiday,
His life's in such a mess he's feelin' suicidal,
Church can't help him get no money from no bible.
Old Dan the veteran, who fought for his country,
Living in the squalor of a run down tenancy,
Can't afford to heat his home, they're cuttin' down his pension,
Reliant on charity, a pretext to pretension,
They made him fight for freedom, seems he never got none,
Too scared to venture outside, afraid of what he might find,
Curled up in a corner, cowering like a rabbit,
Hiding from the muggers out to feed a habit.