Down on Their Luck Xasthur

If they weren't already dead they'd just want to die
Here's to a living grave in which they lie
Knowing things that no one needs to know
They're walking with no place left to go
Left with a handful of broken tools
The streets got them wandering like fools
A full dumpster can't keep him fed
Living where I hear all the voices in his head
He's got a lot of stories for never leaving this place
His skin is gray and dim
She was a bigger mess than him
He had to leave her
On the streets he caught cabin fever
He chose the wrong time when he felt her
She thought he had a home but he's living in a shelter
He tells his tales and he reflects
About the good old days in the projects
Telling all the losers down on their luck
Shouting to the world, he just doesn't give a fuck
There's no one on the other end of that phone
He's got an audience but he's all alone
He can't hear his own voice but he knows what you're saying
There's no other role he could be playing
Things that don't add up, things that have fallen apart
Their life's not much different than their shopping cart...