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Sols cry out,
every day,
from other countries,
that are far away.

Looking for someone,
to lend a hand,
someone to help,
their fellow man.

Souls trying to heal,
from every day pain,
trying to go on,
to see another day.

Countries dying from hunger
and crying in the strrets,
tortured, with having
no shoes on their feet.

No bed to sleep in,
they sleep on the ground,
nobody to help them,
not a soul around.

Souls cry out,
every day,
from other countries,
that are far away.

Copyright Cynthia Jones
Nov.8/2003