Signs of the Times

Scratching tickets with a penny 'cause the quarters all are spent—
Though he never wins the jackpot, every dollar makes a dent.
Times are tough and sure enough, horizons look a little dimmer.
He might cling to strings of hope if he could only catch a glimmer.
Heard tomorrow will be sunny but it's much too soon to tell;
Talk is cheap enough to buy so why's it difficult to sell?
"When it rains..." the saying goes, and though he knows that showers pass,
There's a shortage of umbrellas in this so-called middle class.
Helping hands are hard to come by in a town renowned for greed;
Pulpits lobby for compassion but it's never guaranteed.
Meets a vagrant on the sidewalk and he offers him the cent—
Though a penny's far from plenty, every gesture makes a dent.