half-talented bums that interupt your senseless lunch-time conversations

Yerba Buena Gardens did not look particularly “buena” today

This is the story of two youngins with nothing to do 
Who passed time reciting cliches about life that at 22,
they could not have known anything about

A break in the rhythm
"Hello" says a voice
A supposed music man down on his luck

“From musician to musician”
I’m just trying to make an honest living
I’ve smoked myself wise
Done what I can to get by

You see, "I’m a Vietnam war veteran"
But the government don’t give a shit about black folk like me
They say the war is over
But it hasn't even begun 

"Give me a few minutes"
And of course he meant to say
A few Washingtons too

We gave him all the change we had
And pleased, he paused and said to me
“Are you a singer?”
And I just laughed
"I've got no music in me", I said

So you and our new friend showed me the "music"
Jamming on your six-strings
Losing the time
Just a little tune to clear the mind

And though he was nobody at all 
In a place without the rhymes
I wonder if he is still getting on
Telling his story, showing people the "music"
Talking to strangers
Smoking herb

Are you still at Yerba Buena Gardens?
You still getting by?