Walk across the marshes
View from the distance
into the streets of London
The downtrodden man,
contrite and solemn,
with weathered shoes
and a weathered soul

Walk in his shoes,
View through his eyes
into the streets of desperation
The downtrodden man,
worn and hungry,
with no bread to eat
and no cent to his name

Walk beside him,
View of his world,
into the street of questions
The downtrodden man,
simple and depraved,
with not an answer
and no life to live

Walk to his grave,
View of his stone
into the streets of nothing
The downtrodden man,
asleep and alone,
with no one to care
and no one to see