A red head elderly man sitting on a bench lonesome
As a short white man with off white sneakers walks by

Through those eyes of that elderly man
Lives a dream of what could have been:
I stare into the eyes of the few sleeping on a bench,
And wonder
Could that have been me?
Asking for change
Or could we have been a fallen soldier who slipped down the steps of life
Leaving me at the bottom
Climbing to the top of the heavens with out stretched arms

Maybe I should throw a nickel quarter or dime
Should I give this damage soul money?
So he can send a couple burning rocks down his throat
Just imagining the heart beat as I used to remember
The sound that it used to make as it crackled in the pot

That poor demonic soul for I made it to the top
Through the itching, fiends, homelessness
And watching people die
I am that angel staring down at you
Judging you
From my penthouse suite

For my parents could pay for rehab
But staring at you it looks like yours could not