Look, look at the moonlight Clear, calm as a babie's eyes, it's not capable of lies Vagabond stories of trains and of dreams Just scraping by, they drink more than they eat A coffee shop poet should have stains on his teeth But the books that he reads, the books that he reads Are the books you should read Do, do what you think you must Everything turns to dust That won't happen to us An old pair of shoes, on an old pair of feet Where the meaning of life is just making ends meet A street poet sings of his home on the streets And that's where he sleeps, that's where he sleeps That's where he should sleep