The Rags on the Corner

as a man sits dying, his own mourner

he was once at war still yet he only hears the blast of the mortar

still he thinks back knowing his path could have been shorter

two men walk past, the latter half frowns and the former throws out a quarter

america is turning into a house of porter

all this food we aint ordered so whos givin orders?

I young girl finds the man, cries for she can plainly see his plan

and up walks a coroner, with an iddy biddy foreigner, straight sportin her

the doc puts a hand on his arm hopin he dont do no harm, hopin the bum wont alarm, around this girl he's just tryna charm

the bum has sat for so long resting his wrists against his noes

contemplating his woes,

that he's decomposed. Once sat a sullen man in the corner now just a pile of clothes

he's now gone from his troubles yet his very own problem grows

I guess the moral of the story is dont believe in other peoples empathy it'll be too late when no one shows