It hardly seems a long time, just a minute of the day.
But the man who stood beside me more than gave himself away.
The food stain on his spotted shirt, the gray beard on his face.
A man composed of many names, so I just called him Ace.
(chorus)
But Ace can't read, and Ace can't write, and he sleeps on a bench at night.
A little man the world has left behind.
He ain't bitter, he ain't sweet. Makes his living on the street.
Never knowing what he's gonna find.
Born in Mississippi, picking cotton as a child.
He left soon for the city where he heard that life was wild.
But that was 50 years ago and nothings really strange.
From a poor dirt farm to dirty streets is really not much change.
repeat chorus
Go back to the country, naw he really can't do that.
Wasted years have left him nothing but an old straw hat.
So he puts it on his head and waves a last goodbye.
No time left to turn around and no time to ask why.
Ace can't read and Ace can't write, and he sleeps on a bench at night.
A little man the world has left behind.
He ain't bitter, he ain't sweet. Makes his living on the street.
Never knowing what he's gonna find.
And this old world has left poor Ace behind.
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