The Beggar
You go knock, knocking at all those pretty houses
Standing empty handed, hoping.
Doors open so slowly, or not at all
To a beggar in rags on their steps
Having nothing to give of themselves,
The doors slam shut in your face.
How long? How long before you find yourself?
How long? How long before you don’t need to beg?
How long? How long before you can give your heart?
How long? How long? How long?
Walking the streets, so cold and hungry
No place to call your own
All around you so many faces
Asking, pleading, questioning.
Nobody gives a damn for you out there.
How long? How long before you find yourself?
How long? How long before you don’t need to beg?
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