If you want to hear it while you read the lyrics, click this link to listen to it:

Streetwalkin' (rough recording)

;-P

WARNING: Be sure to don peril sensitive listening devices before hearing. I'm a pretty poor singer unfortunately, and I haven't practiced this piece in a long time. But I hope that I get the gist across at least. I think with a good musician this would be a nice song.

Click the "Read more" link to view the lyrics...

Streetwalkin' (c) 1992-2005 by Hawke

My eyes climb

Through the craggy rifts and valleys,

towers and highways

of her weather-beaten face.

My heart feels for

the deep scars and furrows

welts and bruises

of her hammered grace.

Oh, don't you see?

Oh, won't you feel?

They're everywhere,

but invisible,

to the cold eyes

staying within

themselves.

The selfish lives

staining their own souls.

Seeing only the narrow point

of their own goals.

Ignoring the other's please for kindness,

And trampling

yet another

under.

(Chorus)

Oh, can't you see?

Oh, won't you feel?

Please let me have the strength,

not to close my heart.

I feel, uncertain, like many

of what exactly is my part.

(/end chorus)

See them limp along

hand holding

grubby child's hand.

Calling out to anyone,

just to help them stand.

One cowers in a corner

shelter made of plastic.

But there still is power

though calloused under

many layers of bootprints

on face and back.

They still survive,

just a little longer.

Just a little longer.

(back to chorus)

A BMW drives on by

drivers nose pointing to the sky.

She doesn't let herself see

the little girl sitting on the curb,

who does cry.

Who does cry?

Missing her parents

who are no longer

around.

Gunned down.

In the alley way

just because they had a jacket

that some coked out wacko

wanted to sell.

(back to chorus)

Dark clouds gather

and empty their deluge.

Washing away

the filth and sundry sewage.

The little girl looks up,

tears mingling with rain.

She's closing her heart,

so she won't feel the pain.

Then someone blocks her view

of the overcast sky,

an older bearded man,

with a smile very wry.

She sees his tattered cuffs

and sees the compassion,

even through the gruff.

He extends his hand,

out to her.

And thus slows down

the scarring and closing

caused by another

dirty town.

(Finale)

Oh, don't you see?

Oh, won't you feel?

Please let me have the strength,

not to close my heart.

I feel, uncertain like many,

of what exactly is my part?

What can I do, to help stop the pain?

Where do I turn,

to stop the drain

of all the souls

down the gutter

with that gangrenous rain?

Please let me

have the strength

not to close my heart.

I feel uncertain, like many

of what exactly is my part.

My part, my part, my part.

What is my part?"