The Lone Ranger

Through the dark alleys and silent parks
I wander to places where the stray dog barks
Wrapped in a shawl with a stick in my hand
I dwell in the shadows of this strange land
Rubbing my hands through the cold nights
I leave my mark under the street lights
The silence slowly creeps up my back
Dreading the thoughts of a blow or attack
But this is my job and my daily bread.
Even if one day I might end up dead.
Sometimes I try to befriend the stars
Or admire the color of the shiny cars.
Anything and everything to kill some time.
As I save the day/night by fighting crime.
Maybe one fine day, I'll face that crook.
And hope he doesn't see the fear in my look.
I hope he runs at the sight of my face.
And never hopes to return to this place.
I'm happy in the alleys and the silent parks
Wandering to places where the stray dog barks.