Imagine This

The man’s house has one wall and a roof,
Composed of cold, hard grayness, dirtied from the years,
Decorated only with the identities of society’s outcasts.

The man moves now, sleeps in the once fantasy of the past,
The seats where families rode in anticipation to get away,
He lies there just thankful to get through one more day.

Then in time he moves again, this time back to the simplest place,
When he sleeps now he is held by the very first creation,
And in the morning he is awaken by the one true clock.

This is the man, who we drive by and give dirty looks,
The one who me make out to be so bad, just because he cant read,
Or is it because of you, your life and never having to cook?

Well I can give you one simple answer indeed,
This man could ask you for one single simple need,
But you wouldn’t even see him; your eyes are so focused on greed.