I used to think the Hobo
Had no idea in sight
Just how hard he had it
In this, his downtrodden life
But lately, the more I see
The more I think he's right
When all he has is his  backpack
To grapple with in life

And here I am with heavy hand
Holding tight the possessions I own
If I only had an ounce courage
To up and let it go
As I sit inside with dim lit mind
This box I call a home
The Hobo that knows more than me
Is out there free to roam

I thought I held all the answers
Told me by society
But never once did question
What it had done to me
The more you have the harder it is
To ever try and give away
So came the wisdom of the Hobo
I met on the street today