Sitting at his knees.
How are we supposed to feed?
Suffering bird refuse to sing.
Every spirit must be free.
Everywhere we roam.
Singing to the moon like wolves.
And after all above this pain.
We got ourselves when night is cold.
And maybe we ain't got a warm place to stay.
But I have someone I can call a friend.
And I'm not ashamed of my way to live.
Cause I am the dog of the homeless.

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