Оригинален текст
There was a poor man sleeping silently, newspaper wrapped around his cryin' eyes and skinny, stomach tucked. can i spare a dime? i'm saving up for another to kill this empty stomach burns (it burns it does, yea). there was a rich man walking hurriedly, gucci winter wear wrapped around his tag watch and fattened belly tucked. i got spare change but why waste it on another. an anonymous man getting' funked up.
Spit on a humble hand i am ready, i am ready. hung from a ceiling fan i am dirty, i am sweaty. come down the road again, humble hand held out to another.
A wind is blowing, pages sell veteran green wrapped around his cryin' eyes and poison blood alike. i got a medal that i won for savin' another. they don't know what it's like to be funked up.
Spit on a humble hand i am ready, i am ready. hung from a ceiling fan i am dirty, i am sweaty. come down the road again, humble hand held out to another.