[00:05.70]The New York[00:06.57]City winter comes in cold grey sheets of steel[00:11.70]The numbness in his hands and feet is all that he can feel[00:17.49]Alcohol and sterno turns a doorway to a bed[00:22.86]And the ghost of who he might have been lives on inside his head[00:32.85]In a canyon made of brownstone on a sidewalk icy black[00:38.94]He wanders nearly barefoot with his righteousness in tact[00:44.79]A man of many mansions in a cardboard box replete[00:49.86]He lies sleeping with an angel while his heart pretends to beat[00:57.75]The wind blows down on[00:59.22]Lonely Street like an ice pick through the air[01:03.15]Midst the[01:03.66]Sunday times and coffee grinds and wino's in[01:07.47]Times Square[01:09.45]Five flights up on[01:10.98]Easy Street you know she's safe and warm[01:15.27]Way down low neath a foot of snow he's riding out the storm[01:24.84]I offered him my winter coat politely he refused[01:30.63]Like an educated man he spoke with words[01:34.47]I seldom use[01:36.54]He said I don't need pity for these choices are my own[01:42.48]He bowed his head just slightly and quietly moved along[02:34.38]Its not like he's a victim of the homeless life he stalks[02:39.93]Nor helpless to get back across the fine line that he walks[02:46.14]Riding out the storm means yesterday's already spent[02:51.75]Tomorrow don't mean nothing it won't even make a dent