Damaged Goods

                             Damaged Goods

Twenty years ago,
He stood before the judge,
Admitted what he did and went to jail.
Ever since he got out,
He's been looking for a job,
But it seems the world has set him up to fail.
With every application,
They run a background check,
It always comes back, "He's been to the pen."
They all say they're sorry,
They all wish him well,
But no one wants to hire a man like him.

Damaged Goods,
Does it really matter?
Damaged Goods,
He's like you or me.
We all say we'd help him,
If we only could.
But no one wants to handle Damaged Goods.

He spent time as a carpenter,
He spent time as a cook,
Even spent a little time as a maitre d'.
But the only time that matters
To the folks who turn him down
Is the time he spent in the penitentiary.
He knows, given half a chance,
He could make amends
And be the man we all know he could be.
But there's a price for everything
In this life we live
And the cold, hard truth is, "No one rides for free."

Damaged Goods,
Does it really matter?
Damaged Goods,
He's like you or me.
We all say we'd help him,
If we only could.
But no one wants to handle Damaged Goods.

In the doorway of a church,
They found him Christmas morn,
His tired soul had up and flown away.
As the congregation gathered
To celebrate the Lord,
The preacher had a few, choice words to say:
"This was someone's father,
This was someone's son,
And we all swore, we'd help him, if we could.
But we all turned our backs on him,
And now, it's just too late.
Let's bow our heads and pray for Damaged Goods.

Damaged Goods,
Does it really matter?
Damaged Goods,
He's like you or me.
We all say we'd help him,
If we only could.
But no one wants to handle Damaged Goods.
No one wants to handle Damaged Goods.

         © CowboySlim, BMI