Hair undone, dry and brown,
a voice so mature - her own.
The child of the sewers looks on.
The cars whiz past, she wonders where,
she hopes some day she can head there.
The child of the sewers looks on.
She asks for money, so she can eat,
but the eyes in the cars don't see.
The child of the sewers looks on.
They curse her when she touches them,
and close their windows when she comes.
The child of the sewers looks on.
She sits under a tree, it's raining today,
they dont see her, there's nothing to say.
The child of the sewer looks on.
They have plenty and yet have naught,
The heart is empty, but they know it not.
The child of the sewer looks on.
-AJ
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