Is the Universe Our Friend?

They say my shoes are old and blown
Yet, they never get me another one
They say I lack a home of my own
And that I may never drive a car of my own

Because I have holes in my shirts,
And that I sleep on the street,
They call me a misfit
And learning that very much, hurts

No one knows my story
How much suffering I deal with
No one cares about my pains
And for that alone, I am very sorry

You change your clothes everyday
And I am your witness
You buy new mansion everyday
And I have the street to impress

Maybe I just have to accept,
That the universe is not my friend
That whatever I desire for my sect,
She'd always conspire to destroy

I'm just another street boy in the press
With another touching story to tell
So if you think I'm not trying to impress,
Wait until you hear me ring my bell.

Credibility for the street seems too expensive
But with nothing more to live for,
I'm living to defend its last worth
Like the last man standing after the great walls fall.