You sit on the edge of the road in the bus stop shelter
Talking to yourself with your blanket pulled up around
Your shoulders keeping warm, passing by you
Appear to be talking to those beside you but the man is not 
Looking at you, as a matter of fact he looks uncomfortable
With your beat and rhythm, your hands gesturing
Bringing in the listener on a journey, what is the story
That threw you out here, alone with all your possessions in a case
Where is your family, do they worry where you are 
Wondering where you wandered to and we pass by
Leaving you on the fringe cold deserted because you
Should be able to take care of yourself when it is so apparent
We should wrap you up and care for the gift of your childlike 
Faith to be lost out here and not appear to be afraid
Talking with the people you must see everyday 
Care is our call, would we want to be out there