There is a land
Not far from here
Where the blind
See for the sighted

A land
Not far from here
Where the deaf listen
For those that
Can hear

There is a land
But a stone throw’s away
Where the starving
Feed the gluttons

There is a land
Close by
Where the dumb
Speak for the eloquent
And the lame
Dance for the obese
And march and march
For the soldiers

Yes
A land where beggars
Beg for the rich
And the poor
Make the rich wealthy!

Not far from here
Ten year-olds
Are household heads,
And eleven year-olds
Are mothers in city sewers,
And their children will grow
Into the growing nation
Of street dwellers.

In a land
Not far from here,
There are aged widowed
Grandmothers
Who are now mothers
Of their grandchildren’s children

But there shall be
A land . . . oh yes . . .
That land
Where the dead
Shall bury the living.

Yes there shall be a land
Where street kids
Will be judges, judges
Forged in the crucible
Of streetwise society
Kids who have ransomed
Themselves from
Institutional condemnation,
Survivors born in Zimbabwe.