Through their eyes I see the instruments of hope
and in their faces I hear decayed dreams whistling
through the hollow silence of these forgotten streets
where only those with strength can cope;
they are the many lives
who reach out to be heard in this place
where very few stop to listen to their song
but tears dry strong
because in this world everyone needs to feel
they belong.

In their hearts I feel the blues; single mothers
standing on street corners because
they have nothing else to loose. Selling their soul
for survival just to stop the heavy beats
of starvation from silencing their young child’s
future ovation.  They do what they need
just to find a way to feed as poverty
has become their song
but their tears dry strong
because in this world everyone has
a place to belong.

I hear in their voices the echoes of many cold
lonely nights  -- some are familiar strangers
lost and confused and others are old
searching for something out here to feel and to hold.
No amount of spare change
can heal their minds because they were left
without a home as alone
they stand as a song
but their tears dry strong
because in this world everyone
needs to know they belong.