HARLEY SMILES

HARLEY WORKS IN A SMALL CAFE,

SOUTH OF TOWN NEAR THE HIGHWAY.

FOR TWENTY YEARS AIN’T DONE MUCH MORE,

THEN CLEANIN’ THE TABLES AND MOPPIN’ 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,

YOU’D CALL HIM POOR.

BUT NOTICE THE WAY HE WALKS SO TALL,

HOW PROUD HE STANDS.

IF YOU ASK HARLEY

HE’LL TELL YOU LIFE IS GRAND.

GOT A SWIMMIN’ POOL IN MY BACKYARD,

SAILIN’ BOAT AND CREDIT CARDS.

SUMMER HOME ABOVE THE SEA,

AND I’VE GOT AN ACHE INSIDE OF ME.

NOTHING SEEMS TO MAKE MUCH SENSE,

THIS LIFE IS TOO INTENSE.

ANOTHER THING I JUST DON’T KNOW,

IS WHY HARLEY SMILES AND SAYS HELLO.

AS FOR ME YOU COULD SAY I’M FINE,

WORKIN’ HARD PUTTIN’ IN MY TIME.

SALES THIS YEAR ARE ON THE RISE,

THAT’S ALSO TRUE OF SUICIDE.

AIN’T AS IF I GOT THE BLUES,

MAYBE I’LL GO ON A CRUISE.

ON THE WAY I’LL GET A COFFEE TO GO,

AT THE CAFE WHERE HARLEY SMILES AND SAYS HELLO.