Stops to view a cloudy sky.
My eyes, keen to believe with a spirit to survive.
Third eye is clouded with the fog, from the sadness I feel
when I see a man without a home struggling.
Living on these filthy streets.
Fortune favors the who? Surely not you.
But what can I do?
Passion drives faster than any street car, any plane.
But oh, I hate to see them sitting in the rain and
I feel as though I can feel their pain.
Sharp as my mind, a knife is held to my heart
Telling me, don't fret.
This is a feeling you will never forget.
How to look past these defeated souls?
With their empty stomachs, empty wallets
Empty pipe that is his mistress
and she gives him so much more than I ever could.
Every face, every day stays with me and it is all the same.
I think often about the doubt, the shame but how can you refrain
when you feel like you have nothing to gain?
How to assist when it's hit or miss and every hit she takes
I can't seem to dismiss.
Often I wonder, where is he? Where is she?
Does time even exist when you've lost everything?
Dignity disperses, empty verses
As they plead and beg and have lost all recollection as to what hope is?
And me? I'm desperate and wanting so badly to share
but what can I possibly give to pull her out of despair?
One day, I always say, one day I want to help more.
More than I can possibly do this way...
But for now all I have is words, and open arms
as they share the pain and ask for some change.
Oh, what I would give
To take that away.