Lincoln Man ft. Mike Flattley Lyrics

Taking small comfort from Saturday's Age

Feeling the cold of the bench through each page

Salvation stews bottle of booze

Taking a meal from parkside bins

Cigarette ends in Carlton tins

Turning towards whatever brings him a friend

Dancing with unseen friends, his mind pretends

To be dancing with a queen

Fantasy plays its game and hides his name

In a mist of dreams, 'till the cold air gleams

On the

Pattern of patchwork that makes up his clothes

Small bits of string and some rags for his toes

Old coat and shoes, battered and bruised

Meeting a friend in Lincoln Park

Passing the day to greet the dark

That hides every worn and weathered mark on his face

Dancing with unseen friends, his mind pretends

To be dancing with a queen

Fantasy plays its game and hides his name

In a mist of dreams, 'till the cold air gleams

On his clothes