The Beggar's Waltz

A simple boy of common strain
a low bread without class
soil his name and spit at him
just laugh and turn away
a little boy who’s lost his pride
a little boy who’s dignity died.
No fairy tales can cheer him up as life just fed him lies
no summer sun can bring him warmth
nor light to wilted eyes he is a puppet upon a string
he will dance if you will sing.
Painful yearning…
relentless turning…
in the beggar’s waltz