Sal Three

I have no need of you, stepping off this train, who are this crew, i wish to be alone, not see anyone anyway, on the streets or Metro, there is no clue, except these popinjays, asking me my due, you arranged the loans, tell them what to do, put jelly on your bones, don't give me your view, now the voice is raised, I am not your issue, before my groans, you tried to erase, everything I called home, truth is a bitter fruit, when the old man passed away, no one sang my blues, or even knelt to pray.