The Crutch

Gil Scott-Heron


His eyes half closed revealed his world of nod
A world of lonely men and no love, no god
His life of seeming nonchalance can't hide
The pain and fear that in his mind reside
From dawn till dawn his body houses hurt
And none of us can truly aid his search
We sit outside and sing cliches, the fool
It's always easy to forecast other's doom
The savage beast that once so soothed his brain
Has reared it's ugly head and staked it's claim
Call Yama, here sits one more soul
That he will have to add to sorrows toll
These men, still men, would be like you and me
But when the world reached out they chose to flee
The crutch

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