These magnolia streets I'm forced to roam, shop doorways and arches I call my home.

Buildings crafted from victorian might will be my shelter on this cold and lonely night.

I pull my collor close and my jacket tight to protect me from the rain that soaks  and cold winds that bite.

Passers by giving me a sideways look, like I'm a drug addict or a low life crook.

Should I be...