It's the maybe you can spare a dime, begging in the morn sunshine, playing my kind of music.Busking around the upside of town, under the ground, and on through the wintertime.Mr. Mr. Spare us a dime.Lady, walking with your nose in the air, confident she we could care.What you think about us, baby?We pick up and run when the police come, spoiling our fun and trying to keep us in line.Lady, can you spare us a dime?Mister, my shoes are hanging off my feet.Oh, I'm kicking up the dust on the street.The same thing since we're babies again.We're in, and it's all in my skin.There's a hole in my jeans, where all of my dreams fall through.Mister, maybe you can spare us a dime.