When I run out of all this
hard-earned easy-spent
cash of mine, I’m gonna
end up just like one of them
laid back Philly bums.

I’m gonna chill.
Right on that park bench
with those sunglasses on
and that old suit coat
buttoned all the way,
and when you pass me
I won’t even ask for cash.

Them laid back Philly bums
know just what it means,
I guess.

They get what’s good,
and sometimes with the
taxis trying to kill a body,
and the buses not caring
if they do, I guess a little
live music and sunshine
is good enough for me.

just like one of them laid back Philly bums.

i wonder what it would be like to
pop something like peyote for the
night and entertain myself with
thoughts a little less mundane.

i wonder and find the thought
different enough i’m willing to
settle for having partaken of the
inquisition, and lacked the drug