A Broken Man

As I drove by the highway
I met a man,
Sitting by the roadside,
Oblivious of the passing trucks,
Like a baby in the cradle he lay.

He waived his hand,
And stopped me by
Made me sit,
Offered me some rye.

He dint remember his name,
Or where he belonged,
He looked broken, with no care,
Though he did have a story to share.

He’d been at the bar,
the night before,
With friends and brothers,
And a girl he thought he loved.

He couldn’t remember
What exactly had ensued,
but he was told...
He’d sold his soul,
or maybe deserted,
by the lover unknown.

He dint remember,
Cos he was too drunk,
All he knew,
Was the lonely day had begun.

Cos after the night
There were no friends, no brothers,
His sweetness, he couldn’t find.
Left, were he and the rye.

He said he couldn’t love now,
Cos he would get drunk again.
But now he was addicted,
And almost dead.

I held his hand
Till he cried,
Sat with him
Drank his rye.

I told him it was a good life,
The day had just begun.
On a day like this,
I could drive him by
And take him for a drink.
He said no…
Wanted me to go…

I kissed him luck,
And bade him goodbye.
Prayed for him
and drove by...
All i know is,
it was a broken man,
I’d met by the roadside.