You live off the waste and decay of mankind
Ugly little grey thing that begs so earnestly
No home, no warmth, diseased and despised
You patrol your station, strut so proudly
An old graceful gentleman.
That disregarded ham sandwich, an ancient crisp
Maybe your first meal in weeks,
Maybe your last
No concept of time
You only watch the ever-coming trains
Show off your skills, walking on roofs
Braving the track
It\\\'s cold, so cold,
Then you entertain
Fouling on the innocent commuter
You\\\'re such a filthy creature
Yet it would be strange not to see you.