Greens are turning yellow
Hearts becoming hollow
Voices from my neighbourhood
From childhood to adulthood.
Trees are still waving
Thunder still drumming
Voices here and there
Gentlemen still cracking weed
Masses still struggling to feed
While luxurious cars ride on the bridge
My street people sleep under bridge.
Sometimes our sun shines bright
Whether the time is wrong or right;
And when the rain chooses to pour
Voices of my street go sour.
We need the rain to bring new life
We need the sun to live and thrive
Let the rich tread on the poor
At night the poor will break their door.
The masses speak but never heard
My people work twice as hard
I am the voice of my street
Speaking for the strong and weak.