He is walking down the street
Throwing change at beggar's feet
She is telling them to walk again,
Following behind slow, and when
The change falls she scoops it up
Into a plastic holy-grail souvenir cup.
He is telling people to change the world
Telling how, but all he has are words.
And the beggars without feet -- bored,
having heard his kind often before,
Know he's not seeing cuz he's not staring
And trying, too hard, to be good and caring.
And his wife is cold and empty, a shell
And nothing more, and for all his well wishing
She's the reality walking behind, clean and
Unkind but would never think she was mean.
And the man drops coins and prayers and poems
But in the end he just walks back to his home
And leaves the streets as he found them
With empty promises to return and aid again.