Here, have a dollar, in fact no brotherman here, have two Two dollars means a snack for me, but it means a big deal to you Be strong, serve God only, know that if you do, beautiful heaven awaits Thats the poem I wrote for the first time I saw a man with no clothes, no money, no plate Mr.Wendal, thats his name, no one ever knew his name cause hes a no-one Never thought twice about spending on a ol bum, until I had the chance to really get to know one Now that I know him, to give him money isnt charity He gives me some knowledge, I buy him some shoes And to think blacks spend all that money on big colleges, still most of yall come out confused Mr.Wendal has freedom, a free that you and I think is dumb Free to be without the worries of a quick to diss society for Mr.Wendals a bum His only worries are sickness and an occasional harassment by the police and their chase Uncivilized we call him, but I just saw him eat off the food we waste Civilization, are we really civilized, yes or no ? Who are we to judge ? When thousands of innocent men could be brutally enslaved and killed over a racist grudge Mr.Wendal has tried to warn us about our ways but we dont hear him talk Is it his fault when weve gone too far, and we got too far, cause on him we walk Mr.Wendal, a man, a human in flesh, but not by law I feed you dignity to stand with pride, realize that all in all you stand tall Mr.Wendal, Lord, Mr.Wendal
Posted on: Mon, 20 Oct 2014 15:11:28 +0000
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