I like it    I don't like it

Faces cracked for reason beyond recognition.
His space is at the palace.
He sleeps for twenty five cents.
Now hes wiping headlights, windshields with an old rag.
It aint nine to five.
Down and dirty, hes an old tramp.
He poses like a dead man.
The night train passes by. moneys not the answer for princes and dancers.
Hes standing under street lights.
Hes thinking of his old life.
He lost his pretty young wife.
The corner is his big plan.
His brunch with jim and jitters.
Boston blue laws aint for shitters.
And newsprint is for cheaters.
Cement mattress for believers.
Now hes shooting power curves.
His buddies think hes got some nerve.
Missus face had other lovers.
Her arms smothered other numbers.
He freezes.
Christmas season, all saints protect him.
His face is cracked for reason beyond recognition.