Poverty Mile
No porridge for baby,
No medicine for us,
I sold the TV,
What's that lump in your breast?
Babe,
I am walking you on poverty mile,
But still I want to love you.
It's about troubled love
That never dies;
Shining your light through
All my dark parts,
It's about the little you say
And the more you do,
It's how you make it
The beginning every day
Every minute, every second
After all these years.
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