He sits across the park,
on a bench made out of bark.
He stares at it, as a whole.
Metal bins, concrete path
his sins, between a building, so so old.
The rain's so fine, it looks like a mist.
The rain's so fine, it feels like a mist.
on a bench made out of bark.
He stares at it, as a whole.
Metal bins, concrete path
his sins, between a building, so so old.
The rain's so fine, it looks like a mist.
The rain's so fine, it feels like a mist.
His face's like the park
his life in plastic bag.
Tiny drops, try to wash his face,
Dirty bins, work of art
His sins, blow'in like a wind, on his face,
The rain its so fine, it looks like a mist.
The rain its so fine, it feels like a mist.
I'm on the balcony,
with a cup o' tea
I wonder, if he does see the park?
Stinky bins, on the rinse
His sins, making him, believe on the dark.
The rain it is so fine, it looks like a mist.
The rain it is so fine, but its not a mist.
his life in plastic bag.
Tiny drops, try to wash his face,
Dirty bins, work of art
His sins, blow'in like a wind, on his face,
The rain its so fine, it looks like a mist.
The rain its so fine, it feels like a mist.
I'm on the balcony,
with a cup o' tea
I wonder, if he does see the park?
Stinky bins, on the rinse
His sins, making him, believe on the dark.
The rain it is so fine, it looks like a mist.
The rain it is so fine, but its not a mist.