Downtown streets are full to bursting
shopping, buying, hungry, thirsting.
Dressed to show off wealth and class
But its a Sunday during mass.

The world's been changing,slowly turning
The torch of "Progress" steady burning
The constant hum of what shall come
beats the manic wartime drum

Have I changed or was it them
Mankind no longer man's best friend
Swindle, cheat, or steal for more
The hungry masses, silent, roar.

Is it too late to turn the tide
The moon still tears across the sky
Will we find a higher ground?
Where all can stand, where all are found.