Dirty Old Tramp

Dirty Old Tramp

He disgusts me, the filthy vagrant!
Vomit-stained, lice-infested hair.
Tell me, when did he last wash?
How embarrassing! He walks our streets
Begging, I ask you BEGGING!
He should have a little pride.
'Get thee gone, you low-life tramp
And spoil my view no longer.
You don't belong in our fair city.
Go, go to some leper colony.'

I feel sad for him, that well-dressed youth.
Right now he's sure to feel immortal.
He has it all, or so he thinks.
Not one hair out of place,
And the beauty at his side,
Clinging on his every word.
'All you have is vain possessions.
Like sandcastles moulded in the morning
'The heat of living will cause your flimsy life will crumble.
And YOU will be that tramp in mourning.'