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 brothe

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