Our Daily Bread
The other day, I passed a homeless man on the corner of the street
So, I turned my car around and gave him money so, he could eat.
How often I thought, do I give thanks for my daily bread?
I've never went hungry, I've always been fed.
And every nite when, I lie in my bed,
I have to give thanks for the roof over my head.
Happiness isn't measured by material things.
The love of money and the trouble it brings.
I've made a habit of late, to remember to always say grace.
To take pleasure in the smile on a loved one's face.
This world seems so cold but, I play a part.
I'll no longer be indifferent but, loving from my heart.
chris