A boy still young, the hidden king of the road, A missing ID with no fixed abode. In his castle, sat cradled, his kingdom, alone, A rags to riches dream in a cardboard box of a throne. Such pity and pain left on the roadside, His needs and wants bleed from every tear cried. Harsh feelings bottled up inside this man, Bottled up tight in an old tin can That attacks his heart, which destroys his day But believes his life as ruined anyway. Lines of people walk by but don't care, When they see his sad face and unfriendly glare Small change for a king but they can't help but stare Yet there's no hate reflecting just unwanted despair. A prince to a pauper, such a distance to call, No knights on white horses to break such a fall No unwanted baggage but hence nothing to rule A black hole of `ifs` if life wasn't so cruel. But he'll take what he's given albeit with a frown, A city of dreams in this destitute town A palace of newsprint and sleeping bag gown He will sleep with the hope that he will soon wear his crown. A boyhood of wishes in search of a thrill But the limelighted failure is such a well-guarded pill Still there's lukewarm ambition to keep out the chill And the moonlighted dangers which go looking to kill And there's yesterdays nightmares that rarely get read With the right royal shock that the dream is misled. Yet soon tuppence royalties will fall to his bed And he'll awake with the knowing that the king is not dead.