Where lie the poor in this city of diamonds
The cries of the hungry in streets of pure gold
Real are the beings paraded before us
Or creatures who’s souls have for silver been sold.
They don’t need the poor, the old sick and weary
When riches and glamour gives face that sustains
The pedlars and dealers heave, bloated with profits
Their eyes light up with each day of fresh gains.
So gone are the poor from the city of diamonds
Silent the cries of the hungry and lame
Sent far away to dark distant places
So the city can keep its false friends from its shame.
