STREET POET
Verse 1:) You've already eaten your poor bit (of bread); your thirst you've dipped in the sun, whose taste only you know, yet your heart still thirsts like last night. And you've argued your first argument, and sung your last song -- all of it was in vain. So take from me this song now: (Chorus:) Take my song, Singer of the Street; (take and) place it between your eyes. Take it in bad [times?], take it in good, because it goes within [?! there's got to be a better way of saying this!] your life. (Verse 2:) You went to work with the morning light, and in it you washed your feet. But your day was so black, and it blinded both your eyes. On a path unknown, whose end you won't know, you step in vain. So take from me this song now: (Chorus.) (Verse 3:) You've searched among so many hands (that) maybe suddenly you'll also find your own, but they wandered in the alleys, and there they wrote, alone and without you, songs without lines, drawings without forms, mute tones in vain. So take from me this song now: (Chorus.)
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