Shyly they laugh and dance out the door.
They're children, all children, without any care.
Their clothes, all with holes, in complete disrepair.
They're children, all children, without any care.
Tables and chairs are painted with flair,
But the legs are all broken, and the walls all have holes, but the children all play without any care
How can they grow? When they all stare, at our cameras and movies and think in despair
'I am not smart, I am not fair, my life is my life, I cannot better my fare."
So they play, as children, without any care.