The man sits alone, on the street with his flute, Playing sweet melodies that are both sad and astute, He used to play for the orchestra, with skill and grace, But lost it all to alcohol, now just an empty space. Yet, the music still gives him peace, in its own way, A reminder of the past and what he lost, every day, But still, he plays on, hoping to find a way, Back to the life, he once knew, before he went astray.