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Through the window I can see a Christmas tree.
But those lights never seem to shine for me.
That living room looks warm and bright.
But I’ll be sleeping on a bench again tonight.
It gets mighty cold when that north wind blows.
This morning I could scarcely feel my toes.
A ragged blanket only goes so far.
I bet it must be nice to sleep in a car.
When it’s all I can do not to freeze,
I don’t need a song about good will and peace.
Still, I could use a piece of that grace.
Can a miracle come to pass these days?
The only good will I ever see
Is where they gave this old coat to me for free.
I guess that’s the way it’s always been.
There’s never enough room at the inn.
No one’s bringing me frankincense or myrrh.
But if you have a little gold to spare…
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