In back streets dark, cold and wet
Forgotten figures in corners slept
Ragged figures of human debris
Regrets and rats for company
Cardboard city land of the lost
Afraid of the living, in fear of the frost
Surviving on wits a day at a time
Circumstance their only crime
If fate decreed that they should die
In passing without a single cry
Alone for company only fear
Who alone would shed a tear?
There by fate, and not by choice
Souls in torment, with common voice
Drunks and addicts, so absurd
Vanish daily, their pleas unheard
So spare a thought as you sit to dine
Gulp your beer, or sip your wine
Things taken for granted, as we often do
But for the grace of God, it could be you.