Don McLean - Homeless Brother lyrics

I was walking by the graveyard
Late last Friday night
I heard somebody yelling
It sounded like a fight
It was just a drunken hobo
Dancing circles in the night
Pouring whiskey on the headstones
In the blue moonlight
So often have I wondered where
These homeless brothers go
Down in some hidden valley were
Their sorrows cannot show
Where the police cannot find them
Where the wanted men can go
There's freedom when your walking
Even though you're walking slow

Smash your bottle on a gravestone
And live while you can
That homeless brother is my friend

It's hard to be a pack rat
It's hard to be a 'bo
But living's so much harder where
The heartless people go
Somewhere the dogs are barking and
The children seem to know
That Jesus on the highway was a lost hobo
And they hear the holy silence of
The temples in the hill
And they see the ragged tatters
As another kind of thrill
And they envy him the sunshine and
They pity him the chill
And they're sad to do their living
For some other kind of thrill

Smash your bottle on a gravestone
And live while you can
That homeless brother is my friend

Somewhere there was a woman
Somewhere there was a child
Somewhere there was a cottage where
The marigolds grew wild
But some where's just like nowhere when
You leave it for a while
You'll find the broken hearted
When you're travelling jungle-style
Down the bowels of a broken land
Where numbers live like men
Where those who keep their senses
Have them taken back again
Where the night stick cracks with crazy rage
Where madmen don't pretend
Where wealth has no beginning
And poverty no end

Smash your bottle on a gravestone
And live while you can
That homeless brother is my friend

The ghosts of highway royalty have
Vanished in the night
The Whitman wanderer walking toward
A glowing inner light
The children have grown older and the
Cops have gripped us tight
There's no spot round the melting pot
For free men in their flight
And you who leave on promises
And prosper as you please
The victim of your riches often
Dies of your disease
He can't hear the factory whistle
Just the lonesome freight train's wheeze
He's living on good fortune
He ain't dying on his knees

Smash your bottle on a gravestone
And live while you can
That homeless brother is my friend
That homeless brother is my friend