Every time I stopped and pump petroleum I see this man

weird man not much to him but a wheelchair and an oxygen tank

Clothes were that of a local basehead, shoes were worn down

Eyes were red and filled with years of pain

But his voice, oh his voice, strong with a joyous tone

His smile lights up the customers walking in and out the store

From the vibrations he gave, you couldn’t tell of the pain in his eyes

But I guess that’s just the mystery of pain.