The People of the Street

In the big city of Chicago.

There are so many people you'll meet.

It seems that wherever I go.

I see people live out in the street.

I see the people that sleep outside there.

In the bitter Midwestern cold.

Too discouraged to say a prayer.

When they've seen hardships untold.

The dear people of Chicago.

Walk among us every day.

So share a smile and say hello.

As you pass them on your way.

I see Shorty, John, and Bonita.

On my way into work each day.

As I come out of Ogilvie Station.

They're begging to earn their pay.

Sometimes they might ask you for money.

What they really need is a friend.

A kind word, some conversation.

Will help them more in the end.

The dear people of Chicago.

Walk among us every day.

So share a smile and say hello.

As you pass them on your way.

The preacher man and the businessman.

Won't even look them in the eye.

They check their iPhones, see what they've planned.

They pass the street people by.

So don't throw your coins on the sidewalk.

Sit down at their level instead.

And ask them to tell you what it's like.

Not having a home or a bed.

The dear people of Chicago.

Walk among us every day.

So share a smile and say hello.

As you pass them on your way.

Carlos works in the drug store.

To send money to his family.

It was hard to find jobs in Mexico.

So he lived here in the tent city.

On the other side of the railroad line.

With a dozen people of the street.

They've seen their share of trials and hard times.
Just trying to get back on their feet.