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In the streets of New York City
evīry man can feel the cold.
And I donīt want no pity,
but I want my story told.
When the lights shine down on me,
they shine on the little boy.
Is this way to make him pay;
beīng born in a world of joy.
But like me
he donīt know where heīll go wrong;
he wonīt cry so many tears
till he finds out why he donīt belong like me.
thereīs no room for us out there;
you can lose your hope and pride.
When it comes to broken dreams
youīll get your share.
Sometime a man breaks down,
and the good thing he is looking for
are crushed into the ground.
Get on up, look around;
canīt you feel the wind of change?
Get on up, taste the air;
canīt you see the wind of change;
Donīt you understand what Iīm sayinī,
we need a god down there.
A man to lead us children,
take us from the valley of fear.
Make the lights shine down on us,
show us the road to go.
Help us survive, make us arrive,
teach us what we need to know.
But like me
he donīt know where heīll go wrong;
he wonīt cry so many tears
till he finds out why he donīt belong like me.
thereīs no room for us out there;
you can lose your hope and pride.
When it comes to broken dreams
youīll get your share.
Sometime a man breaks down,
and the good thing he is looking for
are crushed into the ground.
Get on up, look around;
canīt you feel the wind of change?
Get on up, taste the air;
canīt you see the wind of change;
Get on up ...