The tribal sound of marching feet
Cuts through the gloom on cold dark nights
The tired and homeless roam the streets
The sirens wail the engines roar
A shadowed man just glances around
A victim of life's mindless toil
Lies cold and helpless on the ground

The window dummies silent stare
Bear witness on the nights
If they could move
What it would proved
To see them all take flight

The neon haze of city lights
The tribal sound of marching feet
Cuts through the gloom on cold dark nights
The tired and homeless roam the streets
The walls shout loud with angry words
The people air their views
The poor can scream but no-one hears
The concrete jungle sings the blues