(Scott Davis)
|
As the snow flies
|
On a cold and gray Chicago mornin'
|
A poor little baby child is born
|
In the ghetto
|
And his mama cries
|
'cause if there's one thing that she don't need
|
it's another hungry mouth to feed
|
In the ghetto
|
|
People, don't you understand
|
the child needs a helping hand
|
or he'll grow to be an angry young man some day
|
Take a look at you and me,
|
are we too blind to see,
|
do we simply turn our heads
|
and look the other way
|
|
Well the world turns
|
and a hungry little boy with a runny nose
|
plays in the street as the cold wind blows
|
In the ghetto
|
|
And his hunger burns
|
so he starts to roam the streets at night
|
and he learns how to steal
|
and he learns how to fight
|
In the ghetto
|
|
Then one night in desperation
|
a young man breaks away
|
He buys a gun, steals a car,
|
tries to run, but he don't get far
|
And his mama cries
|
|
As a crowd gathers 'round an angry young man
|
face down on the street with a gun in his hand
|
In the ghetto
|
|
As her young man dies,
|
on a cold and gray Chicago mornin',
|
another little baby child is born
|
In the ghetto
|
|
-----------------
|
In The Ghetto
|
| Elvis Presley |
