Victims of pleasure lost
In the streets
Forgot where they come
From nobody wants them
Here
Maybe somebody will
Pray for their souls
While everybody wanted
Their flesh

Born in the storm left by
The sun
Sons of a desiluded life
No where to hide or run
Eternally sleeping on the
Ground

Chorus
Children off the streets
They are
Waiting for a better day
With no hope, for charity
Still without knowingf
They'll die