Along the interstate, he walks
His arms tattered and torn
A dying fire lay on his back
The shelter he searches in the night, no longer shields the sun
In the night he drifts
In the morning he watches, his eyes though are blind
He begs and pleads, nor shall he help
Thinking, something’s gotta give
The dreams of tomorrow formed those unable to bat an eye
This man is you
This man is me
This man is us
This man is all that shall be