Stone and brick, iron and steel,
We build strong walls along the street,
Man-made structures now the Heavens seal
And pluck the grass from underneath our feet.
We’re civilized, dignified and educated,
Technology is pouring from our walls,
We are connected, yet so disconnected,
Stone-faced at the beggar’s calls.
I am that beggar, a face in the crowd,
Begging to see and to be seen,
You give me change to buy my shroud,
And walk on spraying your hands clean.
Machines are moving in the shadows
Of great men of high esteem.
Their ash falls down with quiet woes
As foreign hands build up their dream.
Today don’t build, but listen, friend,
To that last robin from the tree
Water the roses, to your garden tend,
And show the beggar you once more can see.