He is in his room
Men will be there soon
They come to smash the heaven he has known
Now he's sure to know 
Soon that he must go
This backstreet dream he has to leave behind

Oh, what a shame
Oh what a shame

He's a poor old man, poor old man
Poor old man, can we help you?

Things are at their worst
What should he do first?
He must wonder, no one wants to know
He must spread his wings
Pack away his things
A sack is all he needs for all he owns

Tears they blind his eyes
Tears blind his eyes

He's a poor old man, poor old man
Poor old man, can we help you at all?

Poor old man, poor old man
Poor old man, can we help you at all?

Poor old man, poor old man
Poor old man, can we help you at all?