I walk the streets, all by myself,
Through the parks, shops and lovely homes.
I see the families say their evening prayers.
And Children cry in their baby beds.
Everyone gathered to break bread,
Their supper is served on kitchen shelves.
I feel the need to stop and ask,
But nobody will look at the boy with rags for cloth.
Day in and day out we struggle,
Shuffling back and shuffling forth.
Unpack to pack for our next stop,
For we need a place to call home.
I look at families and wish I had one
The children are loved and fed and cared.