Thursday, December 13, 2012


Free was a vagrant living off the streets
With his crack-head Mother, who named him Free
He grew up blaming fate, life wasn't fair
That his genetic genes are what held him there

He hung out with the hobos near the underpass
Where twelve years before, his Mama met his Dad
He would study the features of every face
Then swallowing anguish, he would walk away

Well the alley was crowded one vicious night
And something in Free rose up to fight
He stuffed his things into a dirty pack
Decided that his name would mean just that 
God it's me...
Deliver me...

He made it to the highway, was sent some luck
A hard working family man picked him up 
It was the first time Free had seen his Mama cry
As she signed the papers giving him a life

He'd never been to school, but was smart enough
And his two new Brothers, helped to catch him up
Graduated with honors, went into Art
Painted his memories, from a haunted heart

Well, the gallery was packed, one awesome night
And something in Free, rose up with pride
He reveled in it, then shoved it back
Knowing that he'd always had God to thank
Said, it's me...
You know I see...

He painted all the hobos from the streets
His portraits of children made his patrons weep
It was not long before, he was acclaimed
Master of the homeless, with a fitting name

His Parents and Brothers went with him to scout
The streets and the alleys, helping vagrants out
And every time a child would hold his hand
He'd say Thank You Lord, I truly understand

~~~*2nd Chorus*~~~
Well, the shelter was quiet one Friday night
And something in Free tore loose and cried
He remembered, as a child, how he'd lacked faith
So humbled now, he'd turned out this way
God it's me...
Thanks for blessing me...

Teresa Lynn Johnson
Copyright © 2012  

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