It's a quarter 'till twelve and he sit's in his car,
He steps outside and strokes his guitar.
He sets out his case and tries to make a living,
And prays for all the people who feel like giving.

It's a quarter past three and he's wasted off time,
He's got 12dollars, 5pennies, 3nickels, and one dime.
He keeps looking around scrounging for money,
Which is kind of hard to do when it's not so sunny.

He wishes he knew where he was going in life,
But thinks the only friend he's got is his knife.
He tries so hard to forget the above,
And soon realizes how much he is loved.

It's almost sunrise, and it's time for bed.
It's a quarter past six, he's already dead.