sunday morning poem

alone

lying, thinking
last night
how to find my soul a home
where water is not thirsty
and bread loaf is not stone
i came up with one thing
and I don't believe I'm wrong
that nobody,
but nobody
can make it out here alone.

alone, all alone
nobody, but nobody
can make it out here alone.

there are some millionaires
with money they can't use
their wives run round like banshees
their children sing the blues

they've got expensive doctors
to cure their hearts of stone.
but nobody
no, nobody
can make it out here alone.

alone, all alone
nobody, but nobody
can make it out here alone.

now if you listen closely
i'll tell you what I know
storm clouds are gathering
the wind is gonna blow
the race of man is suffering
and I can hear the moan,
'cause nobody,
but nobody
can make it out here alone.

alone, all alone
nobody, but nobody
can make it out here alone.

by maya angelou (1928 - 2014)