Beggar, that's what I am.
Hand out, asking.
Always needing. Always wanting.
Found me a sweet place, though.
Kind man. Kind. Soft. A little crazy maybe.
Gives me food. Gives me clothes, and a place to sleep.
I got it made. All it gotta do is ask-sometimes not even that.
Got it made. Got it made.

Looked in the man's house today.
Pretty place, but not so full of stuff as I thought.
Kind man's not rich - or maybe not showy.
Got him a big family too. Nice clothes. Good food.
And happy. And ... more than happy.
They all have the same look he has.
The look he called "love."
Maybe I ain't got it made yet. Maybe not yet.

"Mister, mister, please I want..."
"To come inside? Do. Come enjoy the love."
"Oh yes, I... What's the catch? Always a catch."
"You'll become part of my family: loved and loving.
You'll learn to give. Learn to see and to help, and to care
About me, and my family, and these outsiders. I'll help you."
I look at the beggars - hands out, wanting, pleading - love them?
Do I really want in that much? Do I?