by Robert Cray



See him huddled in the shadows, sleepin' on his cardboard bed.
Usin' rags for a pillow, where he lays his unwashed head.

His blankets old newspapers, they're not much good against the snow.
You see so many out there like him, when you walk the night patrol,
When you walk the night patrol.

Oh, you wonder where he came from, where he's gonna go.
Was it a woman or a bottle that brought him down so low?

What's happened to his family? Do they know he's out here in the cold?
He's just a nameless soldier, Marchin' on the night patrol,
Marchin' on the night patrol.

Like that girl there on the corner, she can't be more than seventeen.
She's run away from somewhere, takin' nothin' but her dreams

Now those dreams are lying shattered, as the street exacts its toll,
And she's just another victim, lost out on the night patrol.

Oh, you can ask me why I'm out here, where do I fit into the scene.
Now I'm drawing unemployment got replaced by a machine.

And I'm tortured by my bad habits, sometimes I lose the struggle to control.
And the street has its attractions, when you walk the night patrol,
When you walk the night patrol.


Transcribed by Rich Kulawiec, rsk@ecn.purdue.edu