Connection - Poor to Bad
He sits on the same corner daily - rethinking his past,
children pass, and blurt insults, he feels harassed
yet they pursue to rinse and repeat, always a laugh
and this is what leaves him gassed, to finish his task
not knowing the man, with words they continue to poke
and one kid stands out in the crowd, and begins to provoke
one, two
he can't buckle his shoes
three, four
without a house not a door
five, six
watch him pick up sticks
seven, eight
now see 'em lay them straight
nine, ten
the barrels on fire again
and I feel bad for this man - he's not in good condition
yet he strives on emotion, and thrives on one mission
not restricted to limits - or bound to opinions
he just watches as these little devils help his transition
he doesn't realize what he's got - a talent of value
a paper covered in rhythm, and a mind full of clout too
not using it to it's advantage he still lays on the bench
and he's bullied daily, by a kid who's barely ten
with words too pathetic to be uttered, he is damned
when the child shouts in disgust - and bewilders the man
he's the spawn of the devil, the worst of the wretched
the man with no plan, and he's got horrible credit
he lives down the street, in the park near my school
and everyone knows this man - was always a tool
in response the man stands up
and shouts . . .
. . . "put your hands up"
and the boy replies
we do this everyday, why change the routine
why try and stop me, why create a new scene
get used to it beggar, no one cares for your words
and no one will care if you die tomorrow, ya heard
again he responds this time he looks determined
to make it stop and if it doesn't, the priest says the sermon
kid you've tortured me too long, maybe more than a year
and not once have I retaliated or given you reason to fear
but this is last straw, I promise if you make one more remark
that tomorrow will be your last day in this park
are you kidding old man, you are a puppet
you're attached at the strings, and I love it
you can't harm me or scare me, I've got nothing to fear
'cause if you lay a hand near me, the police will be here
. . . The next day
The crowd reassembles - like normal they walk
and as they pass you hear the boy start to talk
everyone throws in an insult, and then they're on their way
until the man rises from the bench and has one last say
"This old man, he played 10
he played click, click with his pen
click, clack, scribble that - write yourself a note
and watch this old man slice your throat
This old man, he played 9
he played click, clack just in time
click, clack, breeze is back - button up your coat
so you can hear the story, this man wrote
I'm the old man, and I played 8
when I played it, it determined my fate
it went drip, drop, down the drain right before my eyes
and ever since that day, I've been waiting here to die
When it first happened, you all saw me play 7
I played it on the seventh day, praying to go to heaven
and my will was stripped, snapped broken into pieces
as I lay in this park and my anger increases
Then the other day I played 6
when I played it, I was picking up sticks
and you laughed and insulted, and made me feel bad
but I still accepted failure, like an under-grad
and yesterday, was the day I played 5
and while I was playing, little timmy stopped by
to shout profanities, as always in my direction
so today is the day, that I take out all my aggression"
timmy stood in the center, and the children gathered round
to hear the rest of the story, and it's magnificent sound
and the man said ...
"you can make somethin from nothin, if you work hard
but remember timmy, I said you wouldn't get out of this park."
"So today is the day, that I'm playing 4
and knick, knacks not my game anymore
so I'm back to click, clack, and timmy your first
now take a step back, if you don't want blood on your shirt"
The man opens his coat and pulls out a gun
and this game of click, clack has just begun
"Now children, watch, as I play 3
tick, tock, gun cocked, say bye to timmy
he's the reason I'm like this, so I'm sending him home
knick, knack, bullets dash and we watch timmy groan
See it's time to continue, so I'm playing 2
clip, locked, re-cocked now it's time to get rid of you
I'm putting you all down, to raise my spirits once more
boom, bang they all drop and he reloads once more"
This, old, man. He, played, one.
He played knick, knack, with his gun.
With a
Click, clack, barrel snap
bullet to the dome
this old man
came rolling home.
