Walking in the evening humming myself a tune,
Down the lonely street of the crowded city,
I can see five year olds playing by the park,
Smile on their faces and eyes with spark.
Lost in their own creative world with laughter and play,
Myself, lost in trance of childhood memoirs on passage of the day.
On the street was a rag boy of almost the same age,
Rummaging through garbage instead of book page,
Looking at the children, his eyes moist with sadness and delight,
Lost in thought, whether can life ever change his plight?
Picking the rags of plastic, colorful wrappers and papers for his daily meal,
Will the society ever provide anything to invoke his zeal?
There is no magic crystal balls - there is no magic spells,
There are no fairy tales - There aren't any wishing wells,
There is no chosen few - it's just me and you,
And that's all we got. Ya...that's all we got to hold on to.
To make and give something for them to believe in,
To make the other side a little paradise.
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