On my way to work
I saw an older guy
In the median selling magazines
And asking passing cars for change
And I had a pocketful
But I never gave him anything
I didn't like his looks
And his voice annoyed me

Breathing car exhaust
Down every lane he crossed
Hands wet with window wash
Clutched to a stash of crumpled ones
I assume he did alright
He was gone by 6 at night
Pushing his shopping cart
To the camp behind Walmart

This could be worse, he thought
Beneath the loading dock
The staff are kind to me
And I have a steady line of work
And he never asked for much
But once a week or so he hissed
"I'd like to burn this world
To an ash-choked crater"
Then he disappeared
At the coldest time of year
I saw his shopping cart
Buried in snow around the back
And a pile of magazines
And frozen window wash
And countless crumpled dollar bills
Blew in the gathering wind
Of a polar vortex

And the parking lot PA played Wham!
"Last Christmas, I gave you five bucks
And the very next day, I forgot you existed
Last Christmas, I gave you five bucks
And the very next day, I forgot you existed
Last Christmas, I gave you five bucks
And the very next day, I forgot you existed"