Slowly he walked,a walk like a crawl
Rough and dirty, no direction as of a ball
A song he sang,with words and tears
The story of his life he told with fears
An orphan he became at ten
Out of school he dropped unable to learn
Life became more miserable as hell was let loose
His sight he lost,no one to help choose
To the streets he took,begging for alms
Survival was hard,his destiny in his palms
From hand to mouth he scaped each day
No where for him,a specific place to lay
Inspite his seemingly helpless state
He had in him a seed to make him great
Not that of a preacher to preach on the altar
Dexterity he possessed with his hands on a guitar
Save goodness! Who will help him rise?
Who will make great,the seed he carries?
Who will buy him a guitar?
Who will rescue the blind orphan boy?