Small time
Small time
Reading the newspapers
Counting the change
Taking up time they
Weren’t going to use anyway
Hooray for the small time
They dream plenty
Hope for a better day
Pockets always empty
Poor old, poor young,
Poor people always sing
The same old song
Tomorrow maybe
The sun will shine
Maybe make me warm.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment