As I walk past the alleys, I see you
Crawling, begging, moaning in pain.
Sorrows you hold, flood the avenue,
Things you've lost and could never gain:
You cry at the poverty, down the lane,
And no nomads here hold your hand.
I promise, I'll look up to you, fight you're bane,
Let me just grow up once, I'll take your stand.
Poverty,...
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