Beg for life
Death is the poor man's doctor
Life is the poor man's dream
Passing them in the streets
Like they're made out of nothing
Forgetting that their existence is hard to maintain
Bowing down for the people who pass by
Are we gods amongst the poor
Or are we just the key that locks the door
Did we lose the human?
How did we become inhuman?
How did their hopes and
Dreams become one with the dirt
What is the story of their hurt?
Is their misery self inflicted
Or are they the victims of bad luck
One things sure, they are stuck
Refuel humanity at its source
Cause one day their faith could be yours

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