Homeless Brother

I was [G]walking by the graveyard, [C]late last Friday night,
I [E]heard somebody yelling, it[Am] sounded like a fight.
It was [F]just a drunken [C]hobo dancing [Am]circles in the [F]night,
Pouring [C]whiskey on the [G]headstones [F]in the blue moon[C]light.
So [F]often have I [G]wondered where these [C]homeless brothers [Am]go,
[D]Down in some hidden valley were their [G]sorrows cannot show,
Where the [F]police cannot [C]find them, where the [Am]wanted men can [F]go.
There's [C]freedom when your [G]walking, [F]even though you're walking [C]slow.

   [F]Smash your bottle on a [G]gravestone and [C]live while you [Am]can,
   [D]that homeless [G]brother is my [C]friend.

It's [G]hard to be a pack rat, it's [C]hard to be a 'bo,
but [E]living's so much harder where the[Am] heartless people go.
Some[F]where the dogs are [C]barking and the [Am]children seem to [F]know
That [C]Jesus on the [G]highway was a [F]lost hobo[C].
And they [F]hear the holy [G]silence of the [C]temples in the [Am]hill,
And they [D]see the ragged tatters as a[G]nother kind of thrill.
And they [F]envy him the s[C]unshine and they [Am]pity him the [F]chill,
And they're [C]sad to do their [G]living for some [F]other kind of[C] thrill.

   [F]Smash your bottle on a [G]gravestone and [C]live while you [Am]can,
   [D]that homeless [G]brother is my [C]friend.

Somewh[G]ere there was a woman, some[C]where there was a child,
[E]Somewhere there was a cottage where the[Am] marigolds grew wild.
But [F]somewhere's just like [C]nowhere when you [Am]leave it for a [F]while,
You'll [C]find the broken-[G]hearted when you're [F]traveling jungle[C]-style.
Down the [F]bowels of a [G]broken land where [C]numbers live like [Am]men,
Where [D]those who keep their senses have them [G]taken back again,
Where the [F]nightstick cracks with [C]crazy rage, where [Am]madmen don't[F] pretend,
Where [C]wealth has no beg[G]inning and [F]poverty no [C]end.

   [F]Smash your bottle on a [G]gravestone and [C]live while you [Am]can,
   [D]that homeless [G]brother is my [C]friend.

The [G]ghosts of highway royalty have [C]vanished in the night,
The [E]Whitman wanderer walking toward a[Am] glowing inner light.
The [F]children have grown [C]older and the c[Am]ops have gripped us[F] tight,
There's [C]no spot round the [G]melting pot for [F]free men in their [C]flight.
And [F]you who leave on [G]promises and [C]prosper as you [Am]please,
The [D]victim of your riches often [G]dies of your disease,
He can't [F]hear the factory [C]whistle, just the [Am]lonesome freight train's[F] whirs,
He's [C]living on good [G]fortune, he ain't[F] dying on his [C]knees.

   [F]Smash your bottle on a [G]gravestone and [C]live while you [Am]can,
   [D]that homeless [G]brother is my [C]friend.

+2 tones (sounds better to me)

I was [A]walking by the graveyard, [D]late last Friday night,
I [F#]heard somebody yelling, it [Bm]sounded like a fight.
It was [G]just a drunken [D]hobo dancing [Bm]circles in the [G]night,
Pouring [D]whiskey on the [A]headstones [G]in the blue moon[D]light.
So [G]often have I [A]wondered where these [D]homeless brothers [Bm]go,
[E]Down in some hidden valley were their [A]sorrows cannot show,
Where the [G]police cannot [D]find them, where the [Bm]wanted men can [G]go.
There's [D]freedom when your [A]walking, [G]even though you're walking [D]slow.

   [G]Smash your bottle on a [A]gravestone and [D]live while you [Bm]can,
   [E]that homeless [A]brother is my [D]friend.

It's [A]hard to be a pack rat, it's [D]hard to be a 'bo,
but [F#]living's so much harder where the [Bm]heartless people go.
Some[G]where the dogs are [D]barking and the [Bm]children seem to [G]know
That [D]Jesus on the [A]highway was a [G]lost hobo[D].
And they [G]hear the holy [A]silence of the [D]temples in the [Bm]hill,
And they [E]see the ragged tatters as a[A]nother kind of thrill.
And they [G]envy him the s[D]unshine and they [Bm]pity him the [G]chill,
And they're [D]sad to do their [A]living for some [G]other kind of[D] thrill.

   [G]Smash your bottle on a [A]gravestone and [D]live while you [Bm]can,
   [E]that homeless [A]brother is my [D]friend.

Somewh[A]ere there was a woman, some[D]where there was a child,
[F#]Somewhere there was a cottage where the [Bm]marigolds grew wild.
But [G]somewhere's just like [D]nowhere when you [Bm]leave it for a [G]while,
You'll [D]find the broken-[A]hearted when you're [G]traveling jungle[D]-style.
Down the [G]bowels of a [A]broken land where [D]numbers live like [Bm]men,
Where [E]those who keep their senses have them [A]taken back again,
Where the [G]nightstick cracks with [D]crazy rage, where [Bm]madmen don't[G] pretend,
Where [D]wealth has no beg[A]inning and [G]poverty no [D]end.

   [G]Smash your bottle on a [A]gravestone and [D]live while you [Bm]can,
   [E]that homeless [A]brother is my [D]friend.

The [A]ghosts of highway royalty have [D]vanished in the night,
The [F#]Whitman wanderer walking toward a [Bm]glowing inner light.
The [G]children have grown [D]older and the c[Bm]ops have gripped us[G] tight,
There's [D]no spot round the [A]melting pot for [G]free men in their [D]flight.
And [G]you who leave on [A]promises and [D]prosper as you [Bm]please,
The [E]victim of your riches often [A]dies of your disease,
He can't [G]hear the factory [D]whistle, just the [Bm]lonesome freight train's[G] whirs,
He's [D]living on good [A]fortune, he ain't[G] dying on his [D]knees.

   [G]Smash your bottle on a [A]gravestone and [D]live while you [Bm]can,
   [E]that homeless [A]brother is my [D]friend.