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As footsteps echo softly to the early morning hours
The slowness of his moves should be a warning
But from the trash he digs
He patchs socks and yesterdays flowers
What a way to start a Monday morning

He might have been a carpenter at one time in his life
And he built a lot of homes but never had one
Or he could have been a poet
Who had come upon some hard times
And all that he had lived was just his sad poems

He could have been a singer with a lot of promise
But cigarettes and whiskey ruined his throat
Now it was hard to remember even a simple tune
Or the words to songs that he had wrote

Now take me back to Memphis
I've got to do some thinking
'Cause I've been in this city way too long
And it lays heavy on my mind
When I see another man
Having to make the sidewalks his home

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