At This Hour

Here he come walking down the street

Got them funky ragged things on his feet

He got half a busted moon in his smile

Now i know he's walked that long and lonely mile



He's got the waistcoat made of sad, sad, sack

He see a red door and he want to paint it black

He's got a vote for you now if you dare

To not pretend that he's not there



Yeah, he