When You’re Out On The Street

When you’re out on the street
In the summer day’s heat,
And you see me in rags,
Just holding some bags,
Remember the high price
You paid for looking so nice.

For I wear no disguise,
‘Cause I can’t compromise,
And I’m not trying to fit in,
‘Cause I can’t even get in,
And all that talk of winning
Just leaves my head spinning.

Now who is to blame
For this state of shame?
When you drive by my dwelling,
What will you be smelling?
Is it the dirt in the air,
Or a feeling of despair?

As you try to get ahead,
Do you still feel the dread
That you might become me,
Like some outcast refugee
That the system can’t handle,
Just a flickering candle?

But who pays a high price
For taking a large slice?
What do you win in the end
If you cannot comprehend
The meaning of your own life
Or the source of your own strife?

What should your response be
When you see one like me?
Should you pity my lot,
Or just leave me to rot
As society’s curse,
Or treat me much worse?

But are we not the same
At the end of the game?
Won’t your material things,
To which your heart clings,
Follow you to the dust,
And won’t they all rust?

And who is more ready?
Whose heart is more steady?
Who can open the door
To what death has in store?
Does all of your greed here
Provide what you need there?

Though you live like a god
On this temporal sod,
You will die like a man,
And end as you began,
And all of your might
Will end like the night.

So when you’re on the street,
And we have the chance to meet,
Know that I’m a part of you,
And, no matter what you do,
You cannot long delay
Equality’s great day.

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