I don’t know if You can hear me Or if You’re even there I don’t know if You would listen To a gypsy's prayer Yes, I know I'm just an outcast I shouldn’t speak to You Still I see Your face and wonder Were You once an outcast too?
God help the outcasts Hungry from birth Show them the mercy They don’t find on earth God help my people We look to You still God help the outcasts Or nobody will
Churus: I ask for wealth I ask for fame I ask for glory to shine on my name I ask for love I can possess I ask for God and his angels to bless, me
I ask for nothing I can get by But I know so many Less lucky than I Please, help my people The poor and downtrod I thought we all were The children of God God help the outcasts Children of God
I don’t know if there’s a reason Why some are blessed, some not Why the few You seem to favor They fear us Flee us Try not to see us
God help the outcasts The tattered, the torn Seeking an answer To why they were born Winds of misfortune Have blown them about You made the outcasts Don’t cast them out The poor and unlucky The weak and the odd I thought wie all were The children of GodTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
