Written By: dennis orwig
old homeless charlie gets on my bus, he gets on my bus every day
he sits in the back with his old Army pack and he never has too much to say
he's got all his stuff, his old blankets and cups, in a big plastic bag by his side
he paid his buck and he's all bundled up so all day long Charlie rides
now I don't know how his story goes, his history's a mystery to tell
but he don't cause trouble, he keeps to himself, there's days he doesn't look well
and sometimes he hums this old Cowboy song with his eyes turned up to the sky
and from time to time in my mirror I spy a long-ago tear in his eye
old Charlie's lost, I don't think he'll be found, old homeless Charlies rides around
now maybe a woman mangled his heart, left him with memories that tear him apart,
or maybe the bottle tangled his soul, left him with demons that he can't control
I drive him around all over this town, I always bid him "Good day"
I call him a friend and I wish I could mend the damage that left him this way
this bus isn't much but it's his only touch in a world where he has to hide
so day after day he sits and he sways and old homeless Charlie rides
day after day he sits and he sways and old homeless Charlie...... survives
