At our gates and on our steps
huddled against the cold and wind
sleeping in doorways and over grates
the keys to heaven rest for a time.
We hurry by and look away
fearing something we do not know
we might pity but often scorn
we have so much and still shake in fear.
We do not need to worry about food
waking and dreaming they ache to be fed
we rush and bustle, phones to our ears
they wait and hope for a little share.
Come unto me all you that are heavy laden
the Savoir and Victim says to the world
we foolishly think we are over burdened
stepping over those who hear his voice.
As the winter winds blow their cold
as we shop and dine and feed our whims
may we be given eyes to see this day
the Savoir and Victim begging on our streets.