The loneliness of a tramp

For 24 hours I sit, walk and run alone

7 days a week. I am alone

Stuck in a revolutionary pit of loneliness

That I’m pretty sure no one been

But me

For is I am no ordinary Londoner

As my label begins T and ends with a P

For people are frightened by me they say me and my kind have a devilish stench

And our frivolous minds have made us in the position we are in

See at times you may see our minority mob together but we are forever alone, can never trust one another, for we only see each other as a bleak nation, a dreary tribe

Throughout the years I have noticed  the loneliness of a man shall change a man and now I will never go back to how I used to be

See my and my kind are labelled as the tramps see how bleak are label shall be.