Homeless

The sweet scent of summer is nearly gone
tempature is falling, and leaves have already fall'n
soon you will see the heat on your breath,
and the snow will be here as cold as death
the flowers of spring will laugh in my face,
'cause I'm the only one without place
the families pass by not a penny in my tin,
they don't know how I wish to be them
my home gets soggy in the cold wet rain,
as i beg for my money again and again
I still pray to the good lord who payed for my sins,
and hope for the "heavenly" home I'd rather be in.