On a sidewalk down on Broadway
sits a native american man
Jinglin three or four coins
in the palm of his outstretched hand
Halfway living, halfway dead
Street sounds pounding in his head
And he wore a cardboard sign which read
“Please help, I wanna go home.”
And it blew my mind to see this sight,
To live that way both day and night!
How can we talk about human rights
When a native american man
Is a stranger in his own land?
So I sat down on the sidewalk,
near that native american man,
Watching people passing by,
oblivious to his outstretched hand,
Is it to this fate that he’s condemned?
On charity must he depend?
Is there no one with a hand to lend
to send this poor man home?
And it blew my mind to see this sight,
To live that way both day and night!
How can we talk about human rights
When a native american man
Is a stranger in his own land?
On a sidewalk down on Broadway
sits a native american man
Jinglin three or four coins
in the palm of his outstretched hand
Halfway living, halfway dead
Street sounds pounding in his head
And he wore a cardboard sign which read
“Please help, I wanna go home.”
Native American Man
words/music ©1997 Jerry Mills/ASCAP
reprinted with permission
|
