The crazy man who lives in the streets That yells at every pedestrian he meets He sings to the heavens though not so sweet And scares those on the bus up and out of their seats The crazy man who lives in the streets Has holes in the soles of the shoes on his feet He lives in a box in the Bronx without heat And drinks wine with the pigeons he happens to eat If you ever get a chance to meet The crazy man who lives in the streets Tell him for me that what he needs Is a crazy woman between the sheets
Reason for writing:
I like to write about things that make an impression upon me. I've seen the crazyman in your hometown and mine.
Birth sign: Not entered
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View more poems by Leon Hluchota-Virgo.