Under bridges, beneath trestles in the boxcars of dead trains Livin' to beat the cold of the pouring driving rain A silent society moves out in the night Ragged rebels, homeless hobos and those like me Who've lost the light St. Peter is a prophet to all the hobo world An expert on everything From caviar to girls I met him west of Memphis on the 8th of July He handed me a can of beans and a rusty knife And he said "everything out here ain't what it seems And when you're down to nothing Just go ahead and dream Face the fact that you're circle in a world full of squares Trading sorrows for tomorrows, now that's the hobo's prayer" Mother Mary is a lady from down in New Orleans She's seen a lot of living since she was 17 She said, "I'm bona fide and worldly wise, with original parts 'Cept for what set me to traveling, I'm talking about my heart" She said, "I can spot a broken heart from 20 miles away So are you passing through or have you come to stay You're running from a woman," she said with a grin "So what've you got to say" and I said I am a pilgrim Where everything out here ain't what it seems When I'm down to nothing, I just go ahead and dream And face the fact that I'm a circle in a world full of squares Trading sorrows for tomorrows, that's the hobo's prayer Trading sorrows for tomorrows, that's the hobo's prayer