Collin Chattom

Avenue

A man stands,
Alone, on the avenue,
He's beggin' you to look inside yourself,
For the prize he'll get,
If he succeeds, he'll waste it on cigars,
Not cars, end up in bars, of cold steel.
Mirage he sees, the woman that left him,
Forgets him, regrets it, stand alone, above all, by himself.
No job, just sobs,
Forget about it,
He just sits and begs,
For hours just shoutin'
'Can you spare any change? '
But even with change he sits and smokes,
Provokes, totes,
'A small word of advice, '
A guy says, hands the man a hundred dollar bill,
But...