Take A Walk In Their Shoes

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    I met a man walking, on a long dusty road;

    he seemed to be burdened, with life’s heavy load.


    His hair was kind of shaggy, he’d been sleeping in his clothes;

    his shoes were old and weathered, not pretty, heaven knows.


    I said, “hello Sir, how do you do”;

    he looked at me and said, “how’d do”.


    I said, “Where are you going, on this hot sunny day”;

    he said, “I’m looking for heaven, and leave here I pray”.


    I said, “Come on now, don’t be a fool”;

    he said, “This world is just too cruel”.


    I said, “Please explain your reasons to die;

    before you leave this world and say good-by”.


    Then he said, “I’ll tell you and maybe you’ll see;

    but promise me that you won’t judge me”.


    Promise me that you won’t condemn;

    cause you just don’t know, the condition I’m in.


    You won’t know me, or understand my blues;

    until you have walked awhile in my shoes.


    Until you have read every line in my face;

    until you have stood awhile in my place.


    You won’t know me, until you have carried my load;

    and struggled along this old dusty road.


    Until you have felt, my pain and rejection;

    and felt my sorrow, and felt my affliction.


    He said, “I was born into dire poverty;

    as rough a life, as ever can be”.


    My dad ran away, and my mother was cruel;

    and everyone else, called me the fool.


    I wandered the streets, when I was only nine;

    getting into trouble and wasting my time.


    I’ve been in many jails, throughout the years;

    had a lot of heartache, shed a lot of tears.


    I’ve felt cold eyes, staring at me;

    by upper class people, and high society.


    I’ve met people who won’t, give me the time of day;

    who went into a big fine church, and kneeled down to pray.


    I’ve been cheated out of money, by everyone I’ve known;

    I’ve been hated and despised, down to the bone.


    I’ve felt hatred as cold, as an ice house floor;

    from total strangers, that never met me before.


    My whole life has been, filled with pain;

    sometimes I wonder, if I’m insane.


    But if I am, out of my mind;

    why am I hated, most of the time.


    Don’t people have compassion on the mentally ill;

    or be concerned, as to how do they feel.


    How can I judge or condemn any man?

    until in his shoes, I walk and I stand.


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