Sidewalk

His footsteps echoed softly through the early morning hour

The slowness of his move should be a warning

From the trash he digs a pair of socks and yesterday's flowers

What a way to start a monday-morning

He might have been a carpenter at one time in his life

Built a lot of homes but never had one

Or he might have been a poet who'd come upon some hard times

And all that he had lived was just them sad poems

He might have been a singer whit a lot of promise

Cigarettes and whisky ruined his throat

And it's hard to remember even a simple tune

Or the words to the songs that he had wrote

Take me back to Memphis, I've got to do some things

I've been in this city way too long

And it lays heavy on my mind when I see another man

Having to make the sidewalk, having to make the sidewalk his home