The homeless artist sells his life on the street.
Passers by say "The homeless should get a job",
while looking at what his life's work has created.
The singer on the corner sells his soul
for some change in a case
while I write on the corner, looking on,
trying to sell my own singing to myself,
without the change,
trying to make a buck
it's the same old thing,
"Ignore it, it'll go away" -
Why?
It's what we DO.