hobo pete
by John Bruce
Lyrics
[Intro - whimsical but grimy, otamatone lead, glass armonica shimmer, frog guiro clicks, sparse xylophone taps]
Hobo Pete in the morning haze,
Cig smoke curling through the alley maze,
Crooked grin with a one-eye gleam,
Living out a busted city dream.
[Verse 1 - delicate ocarina melody, stylophone pulses, soft glass harmonica swells, dry percussion]
He was once a name in a cleaner day,
Now the sidewalks know the route he takes,
Outside McDonald’s, by the golden glow,
Hoping for a hand, hoping for a show.
Bird shite on a coat that’s seen too much,
Ammonia stink when he drags his touch,
He tips his hat to the passing crowd,
Laughs like a ghost, low and proud.
[Pre-Chorus - rising xylophone pattern, otamatone bends, frog guiro chatter]
No money, no finances, nothing in his hands,
Just a scavenger heart in a city that demands,
From the bins to the block, through the cold night air,
Hobo Pete keeps searching somewhere.
[Chorus - bright but bittersweet, full toy-orchestra lift, layered ocarinas, playful otamatone hook]
Oh, Hobo Pete, with the crooked smile,
Living on the edge of the lost and wild,
No silver spoon, no lucky break,
Just a half-decent bite for the hunger ache.
Oh, Hobo Pete, in the neon heat,
Rummagin’ through the trash where the broken meet,
No money, no finances, that’s the scene,
The story of Hobo Pete, mean and lean.
[Verse 2 - darker stylophone groove, glass armonica glints, xylophone stabs, murmured vocal delivery]
He’s one half of the Ciggy Bandits crew,
But the other half’s gone, and the wind cuts through,
Secretive shadow with a smoke-stained grin,
Always looking like he’s losing, but he’s grinnin’ within.
He knows every bin by the backdoor light,
Every half-eaten meal in the dead of night,
A cold fried chip, a bun gone stale,
He’ll call it a feast in a ragged tale.
[Pre-Chorus - building tension, layered harmonies, otamatone wobble, faster guiro scrape]
No money, no finances, no place to stay,
But he laughs at the rain like it’s far away,
Through the grease and grime, through the city glare,
Hobo Pete keeps searching somewhere.
[Chorus - bigger, bouncier, full ensemble, bouncy xylophone lead, singalong feel]
Oh, Hobo Pete, with the crooked smile,
Living on the edge of the lost and wild,
No silver spoon, no lucky break,
Just a half-decent bite for the hunger ache.
Oh, Hobo Pete, in the neon heat,
Rummagin’ through the trash where the broken meet,
No money, no finances, that’s the scene,
The story of Hobo Pete, mean and lean.
[Outro - fading glass harmonica, lonely ocarina, soft otamatone sigh, distant xylophone ticks]
So if you see him by the fast-food glow,
With his smoke and his coat and his head hung low,
Don’t pity the man with the crooked grin,
He’s still Hobo Pete, and he’s still diggin’ in.
[Intro - whimsical but grimy, otamatone lead, glass armonica shimmer, frog guiro clicks, sparse xylophone taps]
Hobo Pete in the morning haze,
Cig smoke curling through the alley maze,
Crooked grin with a one-eye gleam,
Living out a busted city dream.
[Verse 1 - delicate ocarina melody, stylophone pulses, soft glass harmonica swells, dry percussion]
He was once a name in a cleaner day,
Now the sidewalks know the route he takes,
Outside McDonald’s, by the golden glow,
Hoping for a hand, hoping for a show.
Bird shite on a coat that’s seen too much,
Ammonia stink when he drags his touch,
He tips his hat to the passing crowd,
Laughs like a ghost, low and proud.
[Pre-Chorus - rising xylophone pattern, otamatone bends, frog guiro chatter]
No money, no finances, nothing in his hands,
Just a scavenger heart in a city that demands,
From the bins to the block, through the cold night air,
Hobo Pete keeps searching somewhere.
[Chorus - bright but bittersweet, full toy-orchestra lift, layered ocarinas, playful otamatone hook]
Oh, Hobo Pete, with the crooked smile,
Living on the edge of the lost and wild,
No silver spoon, no lucky break,
Just a half-decent bite for the hunger ache.
Oh, Hobo Pete, in the neon heat,
Rummagin’ through the trash where the broken meet,
No money, no finances, that’s the scene,
The story of Hobo Pete, mean and lean.
[Verse 2 - darker stylophone groove, glass armonica glints, xylophone stabs, murmured vocal delivery]
He’s one half of the Ciggy Bandits crew,
But the other half’s gone, and the wind cuts through,
Secretive shadow with a smoke-stained grin,
Always looking like he’s losing, but he’s grinnin’ within.
He knows every bin by the backdoor light,
Every half-eaten meal in the dead of night,
A cold fried chip, a bun gone stale,
He’ll call it a feast in a ragged tale.
[Pre-Chorus - building tension, layered harmonies, otamatone wobble, faster guiro scrape]
No money, no finances, no place to stay,
But he laughs at the rain like it’s far away,
Through the grease and grime, through the city glare,
Hobo Pete keeps searching somewhere.
[Chorus - bigger, bouncier, full ensemble, bouncy xylophone lead, singalong feel]
Oh, Hobo Pete, with the crooked smile,
Living on the edge of the lost and wild,
No silver spoon, no lucky break,
Just a half-decent bite for the hunger ache.
Oh, Hobo Pete, in the neon heat,
Rummagin’ through the trash where the broken meet,
No money, no finances, that’s the scene,
The story of Hobo Pete, mean and lean.
[Outro - fading glass harmonica, lonely ocarina, soft otamatone sigh, distant xylophone ticks]
So if you see him by the fast-food glow,
With his smoke and his coat and his head hung low,
Don’t pity the man with the crooked grin,
He’s still Hobo Pete, and he’s still diggin’ in.
[Intro - whimsical but grimy, otamatone lead, glass armonica shimmer, frog guiro clicks, sparse xylophone taps]
[Verse 1 - delicate ocarina melody, stylophone pulses, soft glass harmonica swells, dry percussion]
[Pre-Chorus - rising xylophone pattern, otamatone bends, frog guiro chatter]
[Chorus - bright but bittersweet, full toy-orchestra lift, layered ocarinas, playful otamatone hook]
[Outro - fading glass harmonica, lonely ocarina, soft otamatone sigh, distant xylophone ticks]