This is intended as a kind of Bob Dillon ramble
Invisible
I watch people shuffling into church
as I sit in on the bench outside
partly hiding because I'm not going in
Where do I began , do I just sing ?
and hey magic , life's great
sitting there looking up at a cross
hoping for miracles and signs
lighting my cigarette
thinking what's god ever done for me ?
It starts to rain , so I shuffle under a tree
maybe he's punishing me , for not going in
standing in my unwashed clothes
that I've had on for weeks
no one speaks to me , so why should god be any different ?
A couple of late comers run past me
they don't even see me sitting there
holding onto their fancy Dan hats
Pub will be open soon
so I can stroll down there , ignore the comments about me smelling
everyday's the same to me
sadness fills my eyes , I've got feelings the same as anyone else
oh well , rains stopped I'll roll another fag
then I'll head to the pub
