The Walker

I plod along, THUMP THUMP, beside the streets of life.
Here a mother walks with her child, there a man with his wife.
They laugh and stride, the groom and bride,
The child skips and sings,
And I hear the song as I plod along,
And envy the lively things.

I shuffle by, THUMP THUMP, as life goes on around.
The lively ones, they work and play, all full of color and sound.
They walk and run, and one by one,
They get to where they head,
And lonely I, I shuffle by,
And can hardly be told from dead.

I slowly limp, THUMP THUMP, amid the gutter's grime.
None of them pay attention to me. They haven't got the time.
They have their lives, their kids, their wives,
Their jobs and homes and all,
And I, the gimp, I slowly limp
Until at last I fall.