" HOW CAN THIS BE..."

Bony, artistic renderings, skeletons in your face, cowering
No pleading, just bleeding out, right there on the street, no one stops
On their way to the latest banquet, three hundred dollars a plate, dam it
Not even a spare dime, or a happy smile, or sit and talk, we're all guilty
Of not stopping, talking, offering a dime, they're dying for Christ sake.....

We talk about it all the time, but still the ugliness is there, everywhere
All the time, starvation in your face, bleeding into the souls of the cities
Stripping our compassion, it's much too common place, we no longer notice
It's like a traffic light, you see it but you don't, not really, just a spare dime
Could feed the children, like the TV commercials late at night
We think someone's doing something, so we don't have to look
Or feel them dying inside, like they're the motel room carpet
And we're just hookers rushing in the johns, stepping all over them
And never noticing, the carpet's getting worn, why won't management replace it
And where the hell is God?  I just can't understand, aren't we all free
And if we are....then........How Can This Be?......

Tony Taylor   (Chicago)