The Man with no Shoes

Tooting my flute.
No money
His name was Charlatan Charlie
And back in ‘92
He had no shoes
Just think about him
When you walk by me
Bare feet on the street in poverty
A coin or two 
Wouldn’t drain you by much
Would it?
Why should it?
You, dressed in your suit
And silk tie to boot
Just think about him
That man is me
The man without shoes
Charlatan Charlie
They called him that
But what else could he be?
An honest man don’t know misery
like a scab on the street.
Open your heart to my condition
Put yourself in my position
and take a decision.
Buy me some shoes
Give me something to eat
See the sadness in my eyes
Don’t just stare at my feet.

They called him Charlie
But I’m nameless
Overlooked and blameless
’92, ’93, two-thousand and ten
back on the street again
I was like you
With shiny shoes, midnight black suit
And that silk tie to boot
But now I just toot my flute
Trying to look cute 
With eight missing teeth
Long lost beneath
His cardboard house
Poison ivy garden
Friends with Willy-the-mouse
Willing to bargain.
Rearrange my existence
Neglect your resistance
To re-shoe Charlie
That would be hardly
One meal for you
Please give to he that is me
Flute tooting, 
bare-footing 
Charlatan Charlie