Blisters on his feet,
what will he eat?
He has nothing but his warm heartbeat.
Dirt on his sole,
A shirt with a hole,
and a little shopping cart with a small pole.
He sits there for hours,
wishing he had the power,
to one day work at "The Black Tower."
But reality may seem,
that this little dream,
fades right into the night moonbeam.
For all he has,
is hope and some class,
that this too shall one day pass.