Walking the streets of my old hometown

My shoes are just falling apart,

My blistered feet are freezing cold,

Just like my broken old heart.

The wind whips up and blows my hair,

It’s grey wavey and long,

I’m glad the wind is behind me now,

So it can help push me along.

I pass an old friend in the street,

And he gives me plenty of space,

All he sees is a pathetic tramp,

He can’t even look in my face.