On the streets of New York city when the hour was getting late Young men armed with knives and guns, young men armed with hate And Lou Marsh stepped between them and died there in his tracks For one man is no army when the city turns its back
Now the streets are empty, now the streets are dark So keep an eye on shadows and never pass the park For the city is a jungle when the law is out of sight Death lurks in El Barrio with the orphans of the night
He left behind a chamber of a church he served so long For he learned the prayers of distant men will never right the wrongs His church became an alley and his pulpit was the street He made his congregation from the boys he used to meet
There were two gangs approaching in spanish Harlem town The smell of blood was in the air, the challenge was laid down He felt their blinding hatred, and he tried to save their lives And the answer that they gave him was their fists and feet and knives
Will Lou Marsh lie forgotten in his cold and silent grave? Will his memory still linger on, in those he tried to save? All of us who knew him will now and then recall And shed a tear on poverty, tombstone of us allTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
