Issuu on Google+

ANOTHER MAN'S SHOES

I met a man walking, on a long dusty road;

he seemed to be burdened, with life's heavy load.

His hair was kind of shaggy, he'd been sleeping in his clothes;

his shoes were old and weathered, not pretty, heaven knows.

I said, "hello Sir, how do you do";

he looked at me and said, "how'd do".


I said, "Where are you going, on this hot sunny day";

he said, "I'm looking for heaven, and leave here I pray".

I said, "Come on now, don't be a fool";

he said, "This world is just too cruel".

I said, "Please explain your reasons to die;

before you leave this world and say good-by".

Then he said, "I'll tell you and maybe you'll see;


but promise me that you won't judge me".

Promise me that you won't condemn;

cause you just don't know, the condition I'm in.

You won't know me, or understand my blues;

until you have walked awhile in my shoes.

Until you have read every line in my face;

until you have stood awhile in my place.


You won't know me, until you have carried my load;

and struggled along this old dusty road.

Until you have felt, my pain and rejection;

and felt my sorrow, and felt my affliction.

He said, "I was born into dire poverty;

as rough a life, as ever can be".

My dad ran away, and my mother was cruel;


and everyone else, called me the fool.

I wandered the streets, when I was only nine;

getting into trouble and wasting my time.

I've been in many jails, throughout the years;

had a lot of heartache, shed a lot of tears.

I've felt cold eyes, staring at me;

by upper class people, and high society.


I've met people who won't, give me the time of day;

who went into a big fine church, and kneeled down to pray.

I've been cheated out of money, by everyone I've known;

I've been hated and despised, down to the bone.

I've felt hatred as cold, as an ice house floor;

from total strangers, that never met me before.

My whole life has been, filled with pain;


sometimes I wonder, if I'm insane.

But if I am, out of my mind;

why am I hated, most of the time.

Don't people have compassion on the mentally ill;

or be concerned, as to how do they feel.

Don't misunderstand me, I've done wrong too;

I'm not perfect, but neither are you.


People have tricked me, and slandered my name;

and talked behind my back, then smiled just the same.

I'm weary and tired, of life's heavy load;

not too many more days, will I walk this old road.

By my outward appearance, I know I'm not much;

But how can you judge me, by clothes and the such?

If anyone loved me, or cared at all;


they'd give me some help, this burden to haul.

Only God Loves me, this I believe;

from this whole world, nothing I receive.

If I were rich, and had plenty of money;

everyone would adore me, and call me honey.

But I am quite poor, from my presence they flee;

I've heard their cruel whispers, and slanders of me.


He now had stopped speaking, and he looked at my face;

I saw a tear on his cheek, leaving it's trace.

I was speechless and astounded, I spoke not a word;

he slowly turned, and walked down that old road.

I stood there just thinking, of the man I had met;

and suddenly I loved him, my eyes were then wet.

Another human being, I'll never judge nor condemn;


cause he may have walked, where I've never been.

How can I judge or condemn any man?;

until in his shoes, I walk and I stand.


Another Man's Shoes