wilke tobacco Home E. Wilke Smooth Bulldog Tobacco

(BMI) The Hobo Words & Music by Hugh Shacklett And he sits beside the fountain with his head bowed down, dont look around At the grey steel and the concrete a man has never known a colder home With fifty cents for burgundy, a paper bag that holds a change of socks and a bible thats too poor to hock And I looked into his eyes they were blue like mine I recognized The hollow sunken feeling like some work of art they painted To hang upon the wall as we gathered round to praise the honesty of one mans lonely misery And every heart that ever broke one mans dreams a heavy load That died from an overdose of on the road sits all alone

The enclosed head has standup headroom, sink, vac-u-flush toilet, and a separate shower stall

You were not thinking about them before, but the moment that smell hits you, suddenly you want one

It hits like Im done, without turning into a dramatic broken-heart clich