He lives an empty life yet everyone knows him.

A crooked rusty silver cane,

Probably because it rained hard that year.

One torn shirt and a single pair of pants,

Probably because his other belongings were stolen.

A weather-beaten knapsack,

His prize possession for only he knows what's inside.

He walks alone, all by himself.



Cars drive by screaming and shouting.

"Walking Walter" is what the town calls him.

"Need a lift?" sarcastically yells a passerby.

He knows not what he did wrong,

rather knows what he did right,

Fought honorably for the country he loved.



And now because of his bravery,

he is left with nothing but his knapsack.

"Old Glory you've failed me now!"

He sometimes talks to himself when he gets lonely.



His courage, his determination, his love,

All nothing!

And now "Walking Walter,"

Walks alone, all by himself.