Indigente

Homeless

People who suffer
Who have nothing
No clothes or home
Who live on the street
With small children
Who endure the cold
And the rain

And always hungry
They try to feed themselves
Taking food
That is in the trash
From the houses

Where they ask
For a coin for bread
A little clothes to wear
Shoes to walk
And nothing at all

People give them
Because they don't know
If in every house
There are always 50 100
10 bucks

Clothes that are not used
But people do the easy thing
Close the door
Turn around and forget

Don't be a jerk
You have to know how to look around
At the one thrown on the street
And now think

In your bed
20 little ducks sleeping
All warm
People on the street

Who sleep with
A little cardboard
In a square
On a corner

Inside a car
Under a bridge
And wherever
They will always live

A homeless person
In a square
On a corner
Inside a car

And wherever
They will always live
A homeless person

People walking by
Always turn around
Without direction or home
Only to their death it will be

And all their life
On the street
Suffering, begging
Living, dying

People walking by
Always turn around
Without direction or home
Only to their death it will be

And all their life
On the street
Suffering, begging
Living, dying

Disintegrates the nation
To the regular look
Blind climate remains
With imminent loneliness

Unequal gaze
Enough of begging
Dreams of happiness
In the city streets

They are locked as they pass by
Prisoners indeed
Without a direction or place
Where they can rest

By Ahumada or Forestal
Outside the cathedral
We can observe them
With their face of illusion

Or maybe resignation
That this won't change
And that God will take them
To a place where they will find
Joy and happiness

Many people die before your eyes

People walking by
Always turn around
Without direction or home
Only to their death it will be

And all their life
On the street
Suffering, begging
Living, dying

People walking by
Always turn around
Without direction or home
Only to their death it will be

And all their life
On the street
Suffering, begging
Living, dying

Indigent identities
Right there among people
Of good standing
Try to imagine

What is inside
Of this situation
Can be taken
As discrimination

Or an emigration
Within a population
Hoarding sufferings
Among thousands of laments

Silent
Are the shadows
Among streets
For the scraps

A thousand wastes
Death and right
Walking without a direction
Satisfying their hunger

For just a few seconds
For filthy walkers
Who become survivors
Created from their present

And away from the moment
Unceasingly unsettling
Is the percentage
Of such characters

Who reside
In this raw beauty
Families in poverty
And the government

Makes it seem like they care
But it's not their heads
That live
In this reality
Where the homeless abound

People walking by
Always turn around
Without direction or home
Only to their death it will be

And all their life
On the street
Suffering, begging
Living, dying

People walking by
Always turn around
Without direction or home
Only to their death it will be

And all their life
On the street
Suffering, begging
Living, dying

I think it's time
To face the realities
Presented by the present
My mind again

Conscious
I'm never very aware
Slowly as always
Following the path

Among the people
Firmly and right
In a long
Stretch and narrow

The fact is that the roofs
Were made of waste
And my chest that kept
The unstoppable beats

Suddenly formed
In countless buzzes
Regrettable
But it was different

When not only looking
But this time
Observing calmly
In the soul no one is saved

At dawn they only sleep
And they don't face life
They exist and don't exist
They walk and sit
They set the stage
Of sadness and don't lament

Their wealth
Hidden in the beauty
Of their story
And their prey in memory

Without malice
Enduring the cold daily
They don't lament the present
Because they won't have a past

Once reassured
In the grave
Like any other thing
Their life hand raised
With a transparent pencil
Will be written among the people
And will never be erased
And another line again
Will be written and forgotten
By a new look
Of that entity
Homeless

People walking by
Always turn around
Without direction or home
Only to their death it will be

And all their life
On the street
Suffering, begging
Living, dying

People walking by
Always turn around
Without direction or home
Only to their death it will be

And all their life
On the street
Suffering, begging
Living, dying