The skies are full of dirt and gray
City's kids come out to play
Running in the broken glass
From old deserted windows
Dollar winos fill the streets
Poolroom music's soulful beat
Engulfs the gray and dirty air
In the inner city limits
Children run in hopeless heaps
Along the dirty junkie streets
Where women sell themselves to men
Through ruthless mediators
Sidewalk cracks deep and wide The children kneel to look inside
For pennies maybe nickels dropped in passing
They live the lives like others past
The winos drink, the pimps sell ass
Little girls ten years ago
Are older now by twenty
Social change is still just talk
The things you see in urban walks
Should make you sick and lose your lunch
Inside your high rise diners
Make the laws, you own the man
You hold him down where you can stand
One of these days you'll get yours aplenty
One of these days you'll get yours aplenty
One of these days you'll get yours aplenty …
Writer(s): Michael David Fuller
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