It consumes the streets of the Chi,
It makes the best of us weak and frail,
It steals all that is good and turns it into ashes into our mouth,
No one wants to help so they cross the street,
A child weeps as the rain washes away it’s only home,
Her shelter,
‘Why won’t anyone help me?’ She asks,
Poverty has arrived and it will not back down until we unite and help those in need,
Bush says he’s doing all he can,
All of the people on the streets,
With rainwater being their only fresh water supply say he’s a joke,
The U.S. is slowly crumbling in front of Poverty and it laughs aloud,
You weak little country,
You say all for 1 and 1 for all,
Your motto should be, don’t touch me,
I don’t want to get infected, or hurry up with dinner.’
Our country is crumbling in front of our eyes and who does anything about it?
Who can stop the madness before we are all consumed by fear of poverty,
Then poverty itself?
We can, but we choose not to,
Why don’t we help?
We’re all too wrapped up in ourselves and money and greed,
We call ourselves putting up a united front,
Walk the streets of Chicago, New York, L.A.,
Now tell me we’ve done all we can.