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There is a helpless need for human touch |
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We are smashed beneath, |
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On hands and knees, pleading |
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And it's easier to look away |
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And it's easier to believe what they say |
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That you might see my side and for a minute give in |
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That we are weak and we are suffering |
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That you might see my side and for a minute give in |
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There is a driving need to stamp us out |
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We are made to be ignorant and quiet |
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As we give it up for nothing |
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And we leave it to be taken away |
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That you might see my side and for a minute give in |
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That we are weak and we are suffering |
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That you might see my side and for a minute give in |
