Poor Boy

I heard a poor boy's wails
He sounded like his father
Didn't wish or want for anything
Or look beyond what he didn't have

Picking weeds like they're roses
I suppose his
Life's meaningless to you
Long walks on South Street
To dumb to be cowardly

He'd hum a tune while he walked
And count the cracks in the walls
Didn't know what wrong was
But I guess that's okay

Thoughts where his words should be
Made him speak real slow
But he loved the looks of passers-by
As they acknowledged where he'd never go

He was a boy who never cried
Didn't get lost
And never told a lie
Just a few half-truths

Knew his place
Never wondered where he'd go
He laughed at us who are always lost
And only questioned why we'd never know