A better man than me would rise above his station,
sacrificing comfort for the bliss of separation.
Caring not for wealth or power,
finding his only joy in indignation.

A wiser man than me would know this was the hour,
to act upon his hopes for dreams,
even with his chances slim and outlook dour.

A braver man than me, would stand against oppression,
from the injustices of life that offer no concession.
Standing to demand restitution,
of his life that by right should be in his possession.

But I am just a man of a weaker constitution,
frozen by the scope of tyranny and greed,
shackled and enslaved by the chains of institution.

A better man than me would rise above is sorrow,
a strength within his heart, that his hope might chance to borrow.
Alas the day is lost with the setting of the sun
and I can only strive to be a better man tomorrow.