Whenever I travelled
I saw men living from empty cups
Their life on their knees
Must have hurt

They were given a family
They once must have thought that they would stand
And command the crowds
But they pled to them instead

I saw only once
A woman before an empty cup
Head bowed and belly empty
Call me sexist, but
She was the subject of my charity

It seems to me
The streets are full of those
Who grew to hate life
But she had the potential
To make two lost souls from one

Call me sexist, but
I wanted to raise her from the streets
Lest she raise another
Child of the lamplight
From an empty cup