I look at their feet when I’m sat on the street.

My cardboard cushion easing the pain,

Of sitting, legs crossed, eyes down, no frown.

Down at the ankles of those walking past

As I sit and wait for that tinkling plate

No looking up, no looking in, don’t let the person see you grin

No bingo game this – eyes down, line and house

My line costs ten quid, and no house in sight

But now it’s quiet, so slyly just check

Enough on the blanket to stop feeling wrecked?

New feet arrive; nice polished brogues

And next to his leather, high heels with bare toes

All brightly painted, like my hopes and dreams

Then down come the coins, and they walk on again

Bastards it’s foreign- just 100 yen!

Try changing that at my street exchange

What’s wrong with dollars, or Euros or pounds?

I’m the one sitting with my arse on the ground!

Hang on a moment, new shoes in sight

Old feet, swollen, ankles quite wide

Please rest a moment, then open that purse

Cascade your love down, onto my soul

Yet all I can hear, without looking up

Are words full of hatred, snide curses above

‘I know I’m a totally useless shit,’

But once I was innocent, sucking on tit,

Bonding with mother, not full of nits, like

My dog alongside me, which shivers – it’s rain

Time to consider; shall I increase the pain?

Look more pathetic, as hordes pass me by

Hang on a minute I’ve just got a pie!

Only half eaten, better than nowt

My dog’s bloody started, there’s crust on her snout

Oh let her have it, my time will come

Jesus it’s cold, it’s right up my bum,

My cardboard converter is less than my thumb so

Pull up the hood and cover the dog

Here comes a copper, a real PC Plod

He stands and he stares then he gives me a nod

‘Keep fucking moving you useless great sod’

That’s what I think, but I give him a grin

Cos his beat’s nearly over, and he don’t want me in

But the next one is looking for frolics and fun

‘Hello tramp, hello twat’, whilst I peering down

Look at his feet, and his boots are quite brown

Doctor by nature, Doctor Marteens,

Strapped up and ready, up to his shins, so

I move to one side as his kick’s coming in

My brain is more tricky than fixing my chin

And I’ve always liked soup through a cup and a straw

But as he fell on his arse pissed as a fart,

His boot hit my chest, and stopped my weak heart.