• I walk these streets alone,
    no map to find my way,
    no place to call my own,
    no one to make it okay.

    My hands are in my pockets,
    my hand is down real low.
    The rain came down in buckets,
    and I have nowhere to go.

    This road will never end,
    I can feel that in my bones.
    But I will find a friend,
    and stop walking these streets alone.
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