Day after day and week after week
He keeps wandering the streets like his future's been defeated
By the structures,
expectations and those who once were his friends
And by his own
mind He's not a man with much
But he got more than most Reflections and stories
That doesn't fit into your palm And he feels rich,
so rich
Yet he's seen as poor
All these different faces,
what do they hide?
What kind of stories are they leaving behind?
All these different faces,
what do they hide?
What kind of stories are they leaving behind?
When the houses are taller and the views for the few
The shadows are longer and there is less room in the sun
By the sea and to rest under a tree
We think we are different than our friends next door
But when no one is watching do our thoughts go to the poor
Or do we turn our heads
the other way?
All these different faces,
what do they hide?
What kind of stories are they leaving behind?
All these different faces,
what do they hide?
What kind of stories are they leaving behind?
Are they leaving behind?