Stranger In Sydney

These streets are too clean for the likes of me,

My bare foot’s aching cos it wants to bleed.

Cruising along, tramp chic dignity,

I look you in the eye aligned trajectory,

I’m not waiting for amusement,

These streets are too clean,

I don’t know fear I’m an alien you see,

Another coffee picking servant sitting on the fringe,

My language ain’t a barrier,

It’s a callous social disease,

Invite me with your eyes,

And then trip me with your teeth.