That person that you see, is less than what could be.
So you judge him, truthfully.
That person over there, you can’t help but stare, at his raggedy skin.
Or the the cold hard bed of a tin.
You lift your nose and chin, you can’t believe what he just did.
He wiped his nose on a dry September leaf that luckily blew in from a far out tree.
Ew, you think, how could this be?
So you drive away, somewhere far from all this uncertainty.
He wishes that you could see
What life is truly like on these wicked streets
Where all he wants is something to eat
Or to hear a voice that is sweet
Sure, his crimes of the past have been done.
He has caused problems that can’t be undone.
But he has learned, and now he lives
In the the present of the mistake that gives
Him nothing but cold nights and colder days.
For he sees the gaze of the little children in their cars as they drive past
Fast. That is how they all go after they’ve had one look at his cast.
This story goes to show
What you have done while you were on the road.
You stop and look awhile, nod a head to pretend you're not vile.
You think that a smile of empathy shows that you care
When in truth you give nothing better than an empty glare.
The ones on the streets are people too.
No, not all of them are there because they were prostitutes,
Some ran away from places far worse
Or lost their jobs and family and became simply cursed.
So something about the fact that they are homeless.
Sometimes all these people need is a little bit of hopefulness.