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The street's got kicks man, like a bargain shelf, in fact cool breeze, its got love just like anyplace else.
Its got high-powered salesmen who push mucho junk, and hustlers who can swallow you up in a chunk.
Its got lights that shine up the dark and make the scene like new. It sells what you don't need, and never lets you forget what you blew.
It's got our beautiful children living in all kinds of hell, hoping to survive and making it well. Swinging together in misty darkness with all their love to share. Smiling their Christ-like forgiveness, that only a ghetto cross could bear.
Oh, the streets got life man, like a young tender sun, and gentleness like a long awaited dream to come. For children are roses with nary a thorn. Forced to feel racist scorn. Our children are beauty with the right to be born.
Born anew at each a.m. Like a child out of twilight, flying toward sunlight. Born anew at each a.m., at each a.m. Punto!
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