Born Anew at Each A.M./

The street's got its kicks, man,/
like a bargain shelf./
In fact, cool-breeze, it's got/
love like anywhere else./

Vaya!/

It's got lights that shine up the dark/
like new./
It sells what you don't need/
and never lets you forget/
what you blew./

It's got high-powered/
salesmen who push mucho junk,/
and hustlers who can swallow you/
up in a chunk./
Aha, check it out./

It's got our beautiful children/
living in all kinds of hell,/
hoping to survive and making it well,/
swinging together in mist darkness/
with all their love to share/
smiling their Christ-like forgiveness/
that only a ghetto cross can bear./
Oh, yeah vaya, check it out!/

Hey, the street's got life, man./
like a young tender sun,/
and gentleness/
like a long awaited dream to come./
Oye, vaya, check it out./

The children are roses,/
with nary a thorn./
Forced to feel racist scorn./

Ha, ha, vaya, check it out!/

Our children are beauty/
with the right to be born./
Born anew at each A.M./
like a child out of twilight/
flying towards sunlight/
born anew at each A.M/.

Punto!/

-Piri Thomas