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As the snow flies |
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On a cold and gray chicago mornin' |
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A poor little baby child is born |
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In the ghetto |
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And his mama cries |
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'cause if there's one thing that she don't need |
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It's another hungry mouth to feed |
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In the ghetto |
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People, don't you understand |
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The child needs a helping hand |
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Or he'll 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 too blind to see |
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Do we simply turn our heads |
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And look the other way |
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Well the world turns |
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And a hungry little boy with a runny nose |
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Plays in the street as the cold wind blows |
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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 |
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And he learns how to fight |
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In the ghetto |
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Then one night in desperation |
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A young man breaks away |
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He buys a gun, steals a car |
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Tries to run, but he don't get far |
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And his mama cries |
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As a crowd gathers 'round an angry young man |
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Face down on the street with a gun in his hand |
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In the ghetto |
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As her young man dies |
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On a cold and gray chicago mornin' |
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Another little baby child is born |
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In the ghetto |