The addicted beggar

Sir, madam, any spare change
My life I'd like to rearrange.
But no one hears his woeful cry
The beggar sits to wonder why.
All just look and sigh and all walk by.
Yet still he sits there head bowed low
For him there is nowhere else to go.
His only hope is that first tenner to buy his drink or dope and then maybe he can cope
And just maybe, just maybe normality will raise it's head
Then again what the hell he maybe end up dead.
No one sees the youth or man that once was there.
No one sees the beggars faults all laid bare and what the hell who is there to really care.
So in his cup we throw a pound or two
With looks and smiles that hide the sorry but thank God it's not me
It's you.
The beggar sits and smiles and whimpers any spare change any spare change for him this is just a normal day but is he saying I'd like to change my days
I'd be happy just to change my ways.
Is he that misunderstood would he help himself if he could
Would it help if we understood
Yet is it just the words we hear, any spare change, any spare change
Or do we think what the hell it's nothing new it's not so strange.
This beggar sits here everyday and there's more as I travel on my way
For me it's just another ordinary day