What is the day that gives
to life the yearn of sleep
I think it is a crippled man
begging on the street

What is the night that sleeps
to ease all the poets’ pain
I think it is the dope
that fills the fool's brain

Who stops to listen to
music soft and sweet
I think it is
the children of the street

Who controls the weary souls
fallen by the road
I think it is the man
who owns the all the gold

what can be done to solve
this life's true history
I think the slave is not the only one
Who struggles to be free

What steps will be taken
to clear the pathway
I think many hide
in the light of day

When trouble knocks
upon the common door
I think all types of vermin
crawl out of cracks in the floor

Still life finds a way
even the lowest soul
smiles through love and light
given freely each and every day