The Soup That Kept Me Strong

It must have been the soup that kept me strong
On those days when there wasn't even a penny in my pocket
and that bitter cold that always crept deep into my lungs
Reminding me that I didn't have any smoke to fill them with
That was when people always looked the happiest to me
So content with their possessions
So passively cool about having a stiff meal
But me
I just went for the soup
The cheap stuff
.59 cents for a bowl of broth and noodles
and my friends would buy me beer
and I'd pass out in the night time and wake up the next day still with no pennies
At about noon I'd walk to some busy place in the city and watch all these happy people eating,
making plans for the evening,
and so on.
They all had jobs that they loved
Where they found them I would never know
and they dressed fine
and I dressed just as well
They didn't even notice that I wasn't one of them
Not me...
I was something else entirely
I sat there among them to trick my brain into thinking that I was one
Sometimes, I'd get some eye contact from a classy broad in a mini skirt
or a head nod from some prick in a suit
and I'd think to myself:
"It's working! It's working!"
Then they would all leave at 1:30pm or some time around 2:00pm and I would pick up and go with them
I'd take that long cold walk back home
Maybe bum a smoke on the way
Get back and toss a pot on the stove
The water would begin to boil and I'd rip open that cheap ass pack of noodles and watch them soften in the water as their temperature began to rise
Cigarette hanging from my lips
I'd light it up in the warmth
In comfort
I wouldn't be thinking about those people anymore
But about myself
and the heat
and the smoke in my lungs
Yeah....
It must have been the soup that kept me strong