Touch Of Home

On the streets of this life, by the broken dreams, and the faded hopes of what might have been, and the years have taught me more, about when and lose, about rich and poor, it's a river wild, it's a grain of sand, it's a lonely child, it's a homeless man, it's a song of hope, in a fragile dream, a touch of hope is what we need. And when the fall wind blows, and winter is near, in an alley cold, you fight back your tears by a concrete wall, by a stairwell door, on a cardboard bed, you go to war, it's a play to see, in a world gone wrong we ignore the weak, and we praise the strong, and the voiceless ones, we do not hear, at the end of the day, they disappear. It's nothing new, it's been said before, how the poor folks have sickened, and the rich folks have soared, in the land of the free, we've been left alone, what we really need is a place called home, on the streets of this life, by the broken dreams, and the faded hopes of what might have been, through the star-spangled cracks we fell, and then the music died, on the carousel, it's a river wild, it's a grain of sand, it's a lonely child, it's a homeless man, it's a song of hope, in a fragile dream, touch of home, is what we need, a song of hope, in a fragile dream, touch of home, is what we need. Touch of home.