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As the snow flies |
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On a cold and grey Chicago morn |
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A poor little baby child is born in the ghetto |
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And his mama cries |
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Cause there's one thing that she don't need |
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Is another little hungry mouth to feed in the ghetto |
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Oh people don't you understand |
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This child needs a helping hand |
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He's gonna grow to be an angry young man some day |
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Take a look at you and me |
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Are we that blind to see? |
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Do we simply turn our heads and look the other way? |
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And the world turns |
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And the hungry little boy with the runny nose |
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Plays in the streets as the cold wind blows in the ghetto |
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And his hunger burns |
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So he starts to roam the streets at night |
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And he learns how to steal and he learns how to fight in the ghetto |
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Then one night in desperation |
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The young man breaks away |
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He buys a gun and steals a car |
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He tries to run but he don't get far |
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And his mama cries |
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A crowd gathers round an angry young man |
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Face down in the street with a gun in his hand in the ghetto |
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Oh people don't you understand |
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This child needs a helping hand |
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He's gonna grow to be an angry young man some day |
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Take a look at you and me |
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Are we that blind to see? |
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Do we simply turn our heads and look the other way? |
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And as her young man dies |
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On a cold and grey Chicago morn |
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Another little baby child is born in the ghetto |
