Dirty-faced Angels

So I'm somewhere south of Nowhere in this tired Texas town; In a seedy all-night diner while I'm guzzling coffee down. And it's me and just the waitress who pretend we're each not there, As we share the pre-dawn silence with a sleepy, glassy stare. And then this old drunk wanders in and staggers to my side And I look up from my coffee at this man who's lost his pride. He asks me for a buck or two so he can finally eat. I shrug and tell the man to sit; that breakfast is my treat. And while he waits upon the stool for eggs and toast and ham, He says to me in slurring speech, "I'll tell you who I am. I'm Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who's risen once again; And I am here to wash away the sins of mortal men." Then the waitress brings his breakfast and the man attacks the food, And I guess that he's so hungry that he's lost his zealous mood. Then, halfway through his breakfast, he nods in drunken sleep; And the waitress frowns disgustedly at the company I keep. It's then this thought pops in my head and I wonder if God's plan Is to send down bands of angels disguised as dregs of Man To see how we respond to them and how we treat their plight; To see if we can help them through another lonely night. That may not be His plan at all; but ever since that day I've tried to give respect to all the ones who pass my way; I give each one their dignity and try to judge them not Nor chide them for their failures or goals they should have sought. And it's made a better man of me, for whatever that is worth; And it's helped me have a common bond with all who walk this earth. So if I had to pick a point in time that changed my life And helped me make some sense of all this universal strife, It would be that night I saw this drunk and laid my money down And bought some food for Jesus in that tired Texas town.