Look I drool like a fool,
My face isn't at all any good.
But I'm dirt poor, no I'm sure,
For days I've haven't had any food.
The rich are getting richer they say,
And I've forgotten how to do numbers.
I can't even beg because I drool so much,
I get beaten with thick iron bars.
I'm probably going to die soon,
No one for me in this cold cruel world.
My family took everything I had,
And outside I was forever hurled.
I've stayed outside, I've nothing to hide,
My story isn't unique I know.
In telling it, I represent a class,
Of unfortunate, old, disabled and slow.
We are at the fringe, creaking at the hinge,
We are almost ready to die.
But no matter what we wish, or who our god,
Suffering is what overwhelms our sky.
