Half dead people hang about the train station
Looking for salvation.
It doesn't matter who they were
In another life
They might have thrived
Now they just want to survive.
Bleeding hands and cracked up skin
Stinking body, scraped up chin
Coats with holes and coats with dirt
A veritable world of hurt.
The half dead people hang around
Run aground and running out
Of time, their bodies breaking down,
Cigarette butts on the ground.
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