SLEEPING STANDING

Don't knock the can of beer out of his hands
For this man is sleeping where he stands 
He has no home or fixed address
The beer his best friend would be my guess

When he should wake and he looks around 
He wishes that he laid on the sodden ground 
His stomach tells him that he has to eat 
Time he was moving on from this busy street

What should I say to this poor desperate man
Me who has plenty and a healthy looking tan 
Poor man I'm grateful that I'm not in your shoes
When everything you do you are destined to lose