Walk along a street at night
You'll see it has a diff'rent side
One that never sees the light
One that we ignore or hide.
Two small children huddle up, sharing the contents of a paper bag
drink from the bottle, there's no cup. When they're not drinking they've got a fag
They have a home, but live on the street, begging for money from those who pass by
they'll spend it on booze and have nothing to eat- but drunkenness helps them forget and get by.
Makes them forget the happier times when mum and dad were alive
they can't afford to remember those times if they want to survive.
Makes them forget what happened next, bad mem'ries they'd rather lose:
mem'ries of adults who wanted sex, these kids didn't get to choose
Mem'ries of bruises and cuts and beating and evry kind of abuse
mem'ries of never drinking or eating unless they'd served some use.
You won't find these two kids on the street if you come by the next day
Too long they've been without food to eat- they'll be bagged and taken away.
But come with me down this street the next night,
for I am sure they'll be there then,
the kids who die before daylight.
If you watch it'll happen again.