that young boy without a name
anywhere I'd know his face
in this city the kid's my favorite
I've seen him, seen him, I see him every day
I've seen him run outside
looking for a place to hide from his father
the kid half naked
and said to myself,
"o, what's the matter here?"
I'm tired of the excuses everybody uses
he's their kid I stay out of it,
but who gave you the right to do this?
we live on Morgan Street
just ten feet between
and his mother, I never see her
but her screams and cussing
I hear them every day
threats like, "if you don't mind I will beat on your behind"
"slap you, slap you silly" made me say,
