Dark streets, dirty and dead
A stench wafts from the trashcan fire
The only warmth on this bitter cold night
Our small group huddles
Each rubbing the ends of their fingers
Together through tattered gloves
The snow softly falls
Our only protection from constant flakes
Resides in the Pearl street overpass
A stray mews nearby
Sniffs through the alleyway debris
Picks up a stiff rat and silently bounds off
The glow from the fire glints
An ancient flask sneaks out momentarily
Quickly slipping back into a dark pocket
The same faces glow every night
And it is here we realize
We are exactly who we are
On this bitter cold night where warmth
Rises from a trashcan fire glowing
In the dead air of dark and dirty streets
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