Through my City, I walked the streets last night.

To see for myself, the City’s homeless plight.

I saw first-hand, the hardship of having no home.

The cardboard blankets and pillows of stone.

 

I threw what I had into a near empty paper cup.

A man muttered 'ta mate'...he barely looked up.

It's difficult to put an age on this homeless man.

I saw weary eyes and a beaten up weathered tan.

 

I wonder what's his history, what stories to tell?

From being on top of the World, has he fell?

How hungry is his stomach, does he suffer pain.?

Is he past caring, to God does he ever complain?

 

Give this man a job, give this man back his pride.

Give this man a home… no more living outside.

At leave give him a chance, his potential to fill.

Give him a chance to escape from the winter chill.

 

As tonight I can feel the temperature cruelly drop.

There’s no warmth at all in the doorway to that shop.

Will this man survive the night; will anybody care?

Will people even notice, if this doorway is soon bare?