FREE

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

~~~*Chorus*~~~

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...

Free...

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

~~~*Chorus*~~~

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...

Free...

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...

Free...

Thanks for blessing me...

~~*~~

Teresa Lynn Johnson

Wrdspnr@aol.com
Copyright © 2012