They play in the mud that makes up the streets
They have few clothes for their bodies no shoes for their feet
They go home to shacks with no food to eat
But look at the smiles on their faces

Their teeth are all rotten their stomachs extended
From missing meals that were really intended
Before their chances begin their chances are ended
But look at the smiles on their faces

The past holds no meaning; the future no hope
They spend their whole lives at the end of their rope
They'll do what their dads did and learn how to cope
But look at the smiles on their faces

Their houses are shacks made of grass, tin, or boards
There's holes in the walls and dirt for the floors
But there's love in that home, who really needs more?
Yes, look at the smiles on their faces

©Steve Sanderfer