Through The Fire
(Reflections On Camden Town Winos)

How much lower can a man sink?
Not much, but theyíve always got money for drink;
They make you wonder, and make you think
What a lucky man you are...

Camden Town winos with fleas in their hair,
Unwashed and unshaved for six months or a year,
But they donít give a damn, and they havenít a care
Except for the price of a bottle.

How nearly you ended up like them,
How close you came to the precipice...
Child in time...
You almost didnít make it.

Cursing and swearing outside the station,
Or lying inert on the cold, hard pavement;
Camden Town winos,
The lowest of the low...
What a lucky man you are.

You lie in your hot bath, bask and soak,
And suddenly you find your yoke
Has shrunk to the weight of a feather.
Youíre broke,
But who cares for the price of a bottle?

How nearly you ended up like them,
The Camden Town winos -
Ghosts of men;
How close you came to the precipice...
Youíre a child in time,
But you made it,
Yes, you made it.

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