The radio cries out of love and tenderness; as he gets colder and colder (a dirty bench doesn't offer much comfort) the people pass by and offer no change, his only companion is a beer and an old radio as it sings sweet melodies to comfort the soul, playing songs of sadness and tales of loneliness, the can of beer can only listen as the radio beckons to him; like a sage, he embraces the music if only temporarily if only through a drunken stupor, he is elevated to a place beyond the melodies entrancing him to leave the self for he has nowhere to go, nowhere to call home; all he can do is listen to the dreams dreams of a better day