My mother was a *** on the streets of L.A.

I use to pray
Let mommy be alive
Father told us
She was dead

Sisters whispers
That’s not true
He took us away
So now I knew

Years of search
To find her and care
Many empty faces
It’s awful out there

The streets of L.A.
A bitter cold place
Survival changes
God’s good grace

My preyers
Had been answered
She was alive
Dying ,each passing day

God gave
Her to me then
He took her away

No more
Do
I
Pray