Tekster: Spin Doctors. Up For Grabs... Live. At This Hour.

Here he comes walking down the street
Got them funky ragged things on his feet
He got half a busted moon in his smile
Now I know he's walked that long and lonely mile

He's got the waistcoat made of sad, sad, sack
He see a red door and he wants to paint it black
He's got a vote for you now if you dare
To not pretend that he's not there

Yeah, he's coming down on you
Yeah, what'cha you gonna do?
You're the only one walking down the street
He's the only one that you're likely to meet
At this hour, baby

You're so used to living in luxury
Greed's made you blind and you just can't see
So many people in the world today
Who won't ever have things their own way

You live protected, respected, inside the law
You're sunny-side-up, he's wearing his yolk raw
You say you never took nothing he'd refuse
He's living off the crap, man, that you can't use