Walking home from the job I keep, br In this downtown city we call civilized, br I feel as if I’m the only one with eyes, br Unobstructed so to see the truth of matters. br There to the side of the overcrowded walk, br In an alley littered with the suffering, br Sits the small child dealt this hardship. br His hair matted, uncut and dirty. br His cloth about the same, torn and small. br br He shouldn’t be there, sad and alone, br At home with a warm loving family, br In a beautiful house with luxuries, br With a yard, and dog as a loyal friend. br That’s the place where he should reside, br Not this crime filled, busy city street. br He’s too young to know this truth. br How the world cannot cope anymore br With everybody’s living for the “me”. br br I walk to him there to the side of the trash, br Offer him my denim jacket off my back, br So he doesn’t freeze in the months ahead, br Give him the left over lunch I ‘bout chunked. br I stay a while; watch him take these little gifts, br And look to me with the sorrowful eyes br Of an innocent child’s soul in this pain. br It’s not fair to him to live this way. br He didn’t ask to be born unto this poverty. br br It seem so unfair, that if he survives this br He will be just like the blood that created him. br Without having the parents to show him right, br He will learn the wrong, and fill the population br With more of the sinful crime and poverty, br Completing a never-ending cycle that multiplies, br Filling the world with more of that kind. br When will we ever wake up and learn the lesson, br That a “me world” inevitably ends with death.