Around the corner and down the street
I hear some music with a strange beat.
I look to see where it comes from
this odd sound of a distant drum.
Then I see this strange old man
walking around with only one hand.
Marching up and down the street
marching to a different beat.
Home is the box where he lies
in the alley by the railroad ties.
Cardboard heaven is what its called
home where many lives have stalled.
He never asks for anything
wraps his clothes with a string.
To the soup lines to get some food
while on the corners people are rude.
Is life passing this old man by
does anyone care if he should die?
Sometimes life may seem quite strange
for this old man is now estrange.
Could it just be a mental thing
where he thinks he may be a king?
Or could it be he wants to withdraw
from the war or what he saw?
Many reasons of which are unknown
the people like this want to be alone.
Many times there is nothing we can say
that can take all their misery and hurt away.
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