Standing on the corner in the cold and driving rain,
the old man pulls his hat tight on his head.
He knows his wounded heart is making wishes all in vain,
and badly wants a hot meal and a bed.
Thinking of the oh so many years that passed him by,
remembering his children and his wife.
Though tears have filled his eyes, he tries his hardest not to cry.
He doesn’t know what happened to his life.
Everybody passes by as though he isn’t there,
their faces showing undisguised disgust,
wishing he would find another corner anywhere,
they cannot meet his eyes for fear of showing their distrust.
Hov’ring in a doorway as the water’s pelting down,
he prays that soon will come a better day,
then heads on down the sidewalk to the poorer side of town.
If he has some luck, he’ll find an old cardboard box to lay
with hope the bottle in his hand will drown
out all the dreams and visions he so long ago once had.
With his final breath, his face all furrowed in a frown,
he’s carried back to times he was a happy, carefree lad.
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