July 13: Pathways To The Street

Pathways to the Street

There are many pathways to giving up

In games where we no longer care to compete,

He sits on a stairway and holds out his cup,

Finding his place to exist – on the street.

Wild in the spirit and up for adventure,

Looking for love and living for song,

Ever at war against social censure,

And no idea how to get along . . .

What began in good fun became a crutch;

Addictions to drugs and to alcohol,

What it took to engage became too much.

He's a prisoner outside the walls.

Chorus:

We all have to struggle to get what we need,

As we cope with our own deficiencies.

We’ve all ignored what we’ve needed to heed,

Been given a mandate that we couldn’t concede;

Suffered the blindness in somebody’s greed,

Or are stymied by daft inefficiency.

So he drifted.  He couldn't see he was lost,

While his chances began to run out,

He dabbled in dreams; In goals to be tossed

‘Cause they carried such worry and doubt.

His thoughts became plagued with resentment

Against anyone’s expectations,

To hide the shame in his lack of commitment.

He made stories of manipulation.

He became an accomplice to a petty crime,

And fearing he would get the blame,

He hopped a freight; found work in a mine,

Where he went by a different name.

Chorus

He met a lonely man who had worked so hard,

But never felt himself succeed,

Until finally, from years of disregard,

He was swept away in his need:

A sensitive person, who, having been attacked,

Could not face the world again.

On a construction project, he hurt his back,

And sought healing though the use of his pen.

At one time, he'd made it in the mining business,

But for lack of ore, the mines had to close.

He wanted his fortune and nothing less,

And so his possibilities froze!

Chorus

The two became friends, and though both deranged,

Compassion between them was given.

Easing their torment; allowing for change,

They could laugh at the lives they'd been living!

They were touched by a woman with a heart so pure,

Subsisting as a church volunteer,

Who finds sexual passion amongst the poor,

Unscathed by Want or fear,

Who said, "As long as you’ve got a place to crash,

You have freedom to sit where it’s sunny.

They look away.  Others treat you like trash.

It’s sad, but people are funny –

"Stuck in possessions they have to maintain,

With so much feeling that they just can’t relate,

It’s their own inner pain that makes them disdain

My joy and my pathetic fate."

Chorus