The Dance of the Outcast

To the miscreant of society, to the men who’ve lost their jobs
To the watery alcoholics, to the children who’ve been robbed

To the woman cased in fishnets, to the child without toys
To the suicidal teenager, who looks secretly at boys

To the member of your church, with heroin tracks up his arms
To the kid who attends your school, and plays chicken with firearms

To the gambler on the street, without a penny to his name
To the sociopath in prison, who thinks everything’s a game

To the dealer trapped in Brooklyn, Who’s got three girls at home
To a smiling woman at the bank, who feels she’s all alone

To the lovers without love, to the boozers without booze
To the poor family on second, without money to own shoes

To anyone who relates to this, I’d like to raise a glass
Cocooned in the “American dream” and the dance of the outcast