Accused Dying On The Vine
I've seen the dead
And they walk the streets
The same tired old faces
I meet at dawn
They rise from graves not six feet deep
But from underpasses
Doorways and the garbage heap
Man what happened to your teeth
Stopped at a red light
They've come creeping out of the bushes
Who's that shuffling towards me?
Sign in his hand asking for change
Tell tale sign of a life gone bad
Dying on the vine
