Текст песни A Cold Day In Hell - Time Machine

Imagine waking up this morning, but instead of your bed
You felt a Plexiglas window pressed against your head
Sleeping at the bus stop, it's almost rush hour again
Feels like God must have damned you like your family and friends
Life on the street, just wanna keep it real and eat
But the outcome is no income 'less you choose to steal and cheat
Can't get a job without a home address
Can't afford accommodations without a steady job
Longing for the days of a soft mattress
And the times before people looked at you like a slob
When they look at you at all—half the time, you could swear
These pedestrians act like you're not even there
Eye contact makes them feel guilty and they should—it's unfair
You just want a place to stay—who needs to be a millionaire?
Panhandling sucks, but it is what it is
So why should people hassle you for handling biz?
And this is tough enough alone, but some are handling kids
Or still dealing with demons from a Vietnam bid
There's voices, people in this world with real stories to tell
And, even in the summertime, it's still a cold day in hell
If you'll permit me to say so, sir,
The subject is not an interesting one
The poor know all about poverty and only
The morbid rich would find the topic glamorous
But I'm doing it for the poor
Don't you understand?
I doubt if they would appreciate it, sir
But you don't realize conditions have changed
There isn't any work, there isn't any food
These are troublous times
What do you know about trouble?
What do I know about trouble?

All he really needs is a warm blanket
A drink to drink away the pain of chain events
He lost two kids to unknown illness, now the third one's sick
And can he get a break? No, his luck's cold as shit
Held his tongue and bit it, but, yet, he still cursed his worst yet
"No, Lord, this can't be fair, do I really deserve this?"
The time passed and now he's all alone
And that bed he makes his stay in is now made of stone
Went from success into a mess into that guy you walk by
And I even didn't see the deepness in his eyes
That cat's not like me, see, I just cashed my check
"Yo, can I get a dollar?"—"No, dude, you didn't make it"
I pay him no respect because he looks neglected
I figured he drink booze all day and let his life be wasted
Stay inconsiderate 'cause I don't know the half
But when his story falls upon my ears, I give what I have
Nods his head and smiles real wide—eternal thanks was given
Wondered if it was for the money or because I listened
Then I realized that day that it was warm as shit
But he bought a cup of tea because of what he's feeling

You see, sir, rich people and theorists—who are
Usually rich people—think of poverty in the negative
As the lack of riches, as disease might be called a lack of health
But it isn't, sir
Poverty is not the lack of anything but a
Positive plague, virulent in itself, contagious as cholera
Well, you seem to have made quite a study of it
Quite unwillingly, sir
Will that be all, sir?
Thanks
Very good, sir