Mark I. Kirkmeyer

DON’T SPIT ON ME

I’m the soldier in the desert, the one that drives the jeep
the veteran who never smiles ‘cause I have agony beneath
and I know how it feels to fight during my sleep

I am that
vacant eyed old timer, who can’t escape the past
a single working mother trying to see my kids on pass
You don’t have to be my friend if it’s too much to ask

Don’t spit on me, don’t call me names
Don’t get your pleasure from my pain
For I did what you would not
Risked my body defending you
Don’t spit on me

I’m a cripple on the corner
You pass me on the street
I wouldn’t be out here begging if I could hold a job
and don’t think I don’t notice that our eyes never meet
I lost my wife and little girl when the war came striking my mind
The days we lay buddies in the ground, I lost my mind
Right now I’m down to holding this little cardboard sign

Don’t spit on me, don’t call me names
Don’t get your pleasure from my pain
For I did what you would not
Risked my body defending you
Don’t spit on me

I’m Fat, I’m thin
I’m Short, I’m tall
I’m deaf, I’m blind
We gave it all

Don’t spit on me, don’t call me names
Don’t get your pleasure from my pain
In God’s eyes we’re all the same
Someday we’ll all have perfect wings
Don’t spit on me

Author’s Note: With thanks and acknowledgement to Allan Shamblin and Steve Seskin for their song, “Don’t Laugh at Me” as sung by Mark Willis