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Their feet are cracked
As they break their back
In the sun-heat
It's all, yes, it's all
For your pennies
Their kids can't go to school
In the morning
Because narcotics grow better than books

And my only hope
Is for their mothers and their daughters
To be loved

Only New York can make it right
If they want to
The consensus is rather apathy
My soul, my soul cries for them
In the morning
Because I'm guilty just the same

But eye to eye
I haven't been
But my cries are swelling
Cause they have faces
They have faces

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