I'm a trusting old soul, babe,. And I guess I'll never change. I'm a trusting old soul. And I guess that I'm never gonna change. I've done it all the hard way.
VERSE. Thirty thousand men on the Bowery. Thirty thousand men on the street. Can't help but roam when you ain't got no home. Beggin' handouts for something to eat.
There's someone on your butt these days. Most everywhere you go. You always wait in line, you find. The line is always slow. I might start in complaining.
Different winds of sorrow restrain me. Every time I try to keep my head above. I'm drowning in sadness, tears become a sea. While I'm desperately searching for a key.