Today on my walk, I met a man
With ripped up jeans and a mangled hand
He muttered some words, I gave him some change
A lingering smell, the face of the deranged
I can't help but imagine my feet had trod
There, but for the grace of god.

Back at my home, the television news
Ran the story of a fireman's crew
They saved the kittens but lost the kids
A life torn apart, property up for bids
I can't help but imagine my feet had trod
There, but for the grace of god.

Then a poor man peddling drug in Detroit
Skilled handling money, with a gun, adroit
On his way back home, the police opened fire
He will never see justice, just a cremation pyre
I can't help but imagine my feet had trod
There, but for the grace of god.

Privilege, luck, name what you will
The father I have who can shoulder the bill
Undeserving, ungrateful, I was born into boon
The ebb/flow of life, due nothing but the moon
Were life a fair game I'd be the one who'd trod
There, but alas, there is no god.