I may live unsheltered,
not knowing when my next meal
will come;
my shoes may have holes in its soles
and my pride ripped and torn,
but I have no care in the world.
I’m free of convention,
free of the balls and chains
that restrict and bind.
Don’t feel sorry
when you see me pulling a cart
across a busy street
‘cause I’m free to let my beard grow,
free to collect bottles and coins,
free to walk at my own pace
without a clock to control my time.
Nothing’s chasing me.
Nothing’s stopping me
from exercising my personal liberty.
