Into the sunset, he did flee,
as if there was something chasing he.
Where to go? Where could he hide?
For he needed shelter, for this ride.
Nervous was he, this lonely man,
running away without a plan.
What must I do to start over,
for I am now very much sober.
I'm just a poor man, all alone,
out on the street, not even a phone.
There was a time when I'd share,
a place with Rats, under the stair.
I did not choose to be this way,
but hard times came on that day.
I'd get a job, using my finesse
but the employer needs an address.
Housing is not something I can pursue,
so a PO Box will have to do.