I stumble down the side walk,
on a street that has no name.
Trying find myself a bottle,
and share it with a friend.
Stop a stranger ask for money,
too far gone to feel the shame.
At the Springfield rescue mission,
just to get in from the cold
Hearing stories about JESUS,
stories my mother told.
How he died upon the cruel cross,
so guys like me could change.
And every day that passes seems the same.
Don McAdam