Amongst those who beg for your change,
There’s the one who promises it.
He speaks of woe and misfortune,
To befall upon the masses.
Telling of plague and damnation,
To those who God does not remit.
He yells this, both to the pavement,
And to everyone that passes.
Yet none who hear him heed his words,
Because to them he is just crazed.
A pariah and a leper,
To be avoided at all costs.
When he says that the end is nigh,
Not a single passer is fazed.
So he argues with his voices,
Oddly fast with his ripostes.
If only he were from Delphi,
Where his gifts would be prized by all.
A place where he would be worshipped,
And not cast aside like refuse.
Yet there he stands on the corner,
With his apocalyptic call.
A flickering light in the dark,
That still everybody eschews.