HARLEY SMILES

HARLEY WORKS IN A SMALL CAFE,

SOUTH OF TOWN NEAR THE HIGHWAY.

FOR TWENTY YEARS AINíT DONE MUCH MORE,

THEN CLEANINí THE TABLES AND MOPPINí THE FLOORS.

 

SOMETIMES I NOTICE HIM.

HE ALWAYS SEEMS TO WEAR A GRIN.

WHEN I STOP BY FOR COFFEE TO GO,

HARLEY SMILES AND SAYS HELLO.

 

HE SLEEPS IN A SHACK

NORTH OF STATE ROUTE FORTY-FOUR.

IF YOU MEASURED THE MAN BY THE WEALTH IN HIS HAND,

YOUíD CALL HIM POOR.

BUT NOTICE THE WAY HE WALKS SO TALL,

HOW PROUD HE STANDS.

IF YOU ASK HARLEY

HEíLL TELL YOU LIFE IS GRAND.

 

GOT A SWIMMINí POOL IN MY BACKYARD,

SAILINí BOAT AND CREDIT CARDS.

SUMMER HOME ABOVE THE SEA,

AND IíVE GOT AN ACHE INSIDE OF ME.

NOTHING SEEMS TO MAKE MUCH SENSE,

THIS LIFE IS TOO INTENSE.

ANOTHER THING I JUST DONíT KNOW,

IS WHY HARLEY SMILES AND SAYS HELLO.

 

AS FOR ME YOU COULD SAY IíM FINE,

WORKINí HARD PUTTINí IN MY TIME.

SALES THIS YEAR ARE ON THE RISE,

THATíS ALSO TRUE OF SUICIDE.

AINíT AS IF I GOT THE BLUES,

MAYBE IíLL GO ON A CRUISE.

ON THE WAY IíLL GET A COFFEE TO GO,

AT THE CAFE WHERE HARLEY SMILES AND SAYS HELLO.