Every day I drive down the street in my truck.
I see the homeless people standing on the sidewalk;
Beggars holding up a sign, asking for a buck.
In the summertime:
I enjoy the air-conditioning,
As they sweat in the heat of the sun.
In the wintertime:
I’m seating in my warm chair,
As they stand and shiver in the cold.
I am coy, when I drive by.
When they stare at me, I turn away;
Because I don’t dare, to give them even a smile.
I have a job and a family, to love and support;
I have a home and a truck, I have a heavy duty.
But why is it, that I have so much,
And they have so little?
Are they lonely and sad,
Or just trying to make me feel bad?
When they were children,
Did they not dream of growing up to be,
Fathers and mothers or even a poet like me?
Why am I not begging and they’re not riding–free?
Heartless people say: “You can’t help everybody!”
Others say they choose their destiny,
By making mistakes.
It isn’t my place, to get in the way,
Of the consequences:
“How else will we learn our lessons?”
Every day I drive down the road in my truck.
I see the fatherless children sitting on the grass;
And still, I judge and condemn them.
I’m not the one, that’s stuck.
I’m justified, I didn’t cause their bad luck.
Oh Jesus, then why do I feel like a schmuck?
By: ElRoy © 2018