On The Pavement I looked at the man on the pavement,
Bedraggled and worn at the seam,
He lives his life out in a bottle,
And he just can't recall where he's been.
I wonder how he came to be there,
With a dog on a rope as his friend,
And begging for food on the street now,
The dog, seeming quite unconcerned.
What dastardly blow has life dealt him,
Did he once have a home and a wife,
I'm sure there must be a reason,
For choosing existence, not life.
The crowds pass him by as he sits there,
Avoiding the look on his face,
Turn their eyes from the sight he's presenting,
And muttering “it's a disgrace”.
They don't know, why he gave up on living,
And in truth he just can't recall,
He just loses himself in the bottle,
But at times he remembers it all.
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