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A rusty carriage with personal belongings accommodations in a cardboard shelter wretched clothes to insulate warmth a soup kitchen line in frigid weather beg and plead for passers' change provides your food for this hard days work live day-by-day, don't consider tomorrow yesterday's paper will be today's comfort Now there's a dying man living on the streets he's freezing and ill with nothing on his feet under the bridge is where he stays on a bed of trash is where he lays doesn't ask for much but sincerity when he begs for spare change so that he can feed but you kick him down, what gives you the right then the question's asked, "Why don't they value life?" Reluctantly living on the street though for some it's not their fault they had a disease that they could not stop born schizophrenic right from the start they sit on the bench and count the clouds they don't know what's real or who they are while you lift your nose and walk right by you laugh and say that they're just insane Never asked for poverty, never asked for disease never asked for you to push them down to their knees why do you turn them away, are you that afraid your attitude only helps them dig their grave homeless, cold, diseased and alone you take for granted that you have a home they once did too but if you only knew how people judged them as they grew Maybe the majority is on drugs and maybe they do it for survival maybe it's for the warmth they supply or for the feeling that they give all to put a smile on their face make them feel good and not disgraced gives you the image that they're all crazed when your greed is what put them there in the first place Maybe death for them is better on drugs 'cause the pain without them is just too much turned to for the security they provide is better than living a painful life you say that they are just all bums drink and drugs are all they love well they'd love life just like you if they were given the chance too From Letras Mania