We lurk in parking lots and back alleys, parks and underpasses. We face the cold, and the wind. But we put in the time, We keep up the grind, And we get the job done. Not many appreciate what we do. Why stand in the cold? Why stand in the wind? We don't know ourselves. But we do know this, This is what we were made to do. Some days are tougher than others. We take slams, we get smashed up, But we don't walk away. We stand fast. We see things through. The unsung soldiers of the streets. When you return to the warmth of your homes, We'll still be here. We don't mind though, Because, at the end of the day, We're just handrails. (Method Mag, issue 23.2, p. 38)