D o w n C i t y S t r e e t s
Down city streets I would roam, I had no bed I had no home.
There was nothing that I owned, used my fingers as a comb.
Crawled out of the bushes early morn.
Used newspapers to keep me warm, then I d have to score a drink.
Calm my nerves, help me to think.
Down city streets I would roam, I had no bed I had no home.
There was nothing that I owned, used my fingers as a comb.
In those days when I was young, drinking and fighting was no fun.
It was daily living for me, I had no choice. It was meant to be.
Down city streets I would roam, I had no bed I had no home.
And there was nothing that I owned, used my fingers as a comb.
INSRUMENTAL
Now I m a wo/man, I m not alone. I am married, I have children of my own.
Now I have something I call my own, these are my children, this is my home.
I look around and understand, how street kids feel when they re put down.
Down city streets I would roam, I had no bed I had no home.
And there was nothing that I owned, used my fingers as a comb.
And there was nothing that I owned, used my fingers as a comb.
Down city streets. Down city streets. Down city streets.
I believe Ruby Hunter wrote this song. RIP, Beautiful Lady.
Comments, corrections and/or rating appreciated. Enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMH-DY0z2ek
