marking time by counting the tiles aloud
My heart beats weak at the sight of him
But he does not care he does not give in
As the cold wind driven rain sweeps down
he pulls collar closer, tugs shoelaces tighter
He sit's on the edge of freedom's door
shackled by maybe one chain to this life
One bit of self respect, just lack of suicide
But the colder seasons coming now
the heavy skies lean ominous and black
He eyes them with fear and wants to hide
The scars of last winter may never fade
he huddles weeping in the corner bus shelter
counting what toes he has left to his name
He cannot remember the last time he felt warm
summer has already fled from his memories
It's not right and it hammers my heart
He's hoping he dies this year,
I ask him why he so driven to quit
Only one answer he has though it covers all
It wasn't supposed to be like this,
I just never seemed to fit.
6/22/04
He had two houses along the great bay
He never thought too hard, and he's always say
Tis better to die fighting that grand ocean spray
He shipped out Of Cape Cod On the first of May
His poor mother weeped as she watched him away
He'll never come home people all heard her say
He'll fight that great ocean until his dying day
He's fighting that ocean, is my Bobby O'shea