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There's an old man sitting on an old park bench,

Watching the birds who are watching him.

And I wouldn't think anything's different bout him,

But he's been there for two days and a week before them.

People walk by and they try not to see

What a horrible life that could come to be...for them.

And I'm sure this old man has a story somewhere.

And I'm sure he would share it if somebody would care.

It wasn't his fault...

The kids grew up and his wife passed on and the money's gone

So they threw him out on the street...

What a solution.

It wasn't his fault.

There's a little girl sitting on a street corner.

She's crying and in pain.

As the pangs of hunger rape her,

Her feelings, they just drain.

And people pass by on the street,

But her eyes-their eyes never meet!

They try to pretend they don't see her, she's there!

And I'm sure this little girl has a story somewhere.

And I'm sure she would share it if somebody would care.

It wasn't her fault...

Her parents were too young and maybe they tried but they just couldn't cope

So they threw her out on the street...

What a solution. It wasn't her fault.

Well, one day the old man decided to walk

Across the street and down the block.

And he found the little girl on the corner there,

He couldn't just pass her by so he stopped and he stared...

"Can I help you?"

And I'm sure this little girl can find a smile somewhere.

And I'm sure this old man could complete the perfect pair.

It wasn't his fault...the money's gone.

It wasn't her fault...they were too young.

What a solution.

There's a little old man and a real little girl,

Sitting on a park bench watching the world...

It wasn't his fault.

It wasn't her fault.

Learn more about this author, Michelle Stilley.
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