Will you help me, walking down
It runs right by the factory in its
It lays right by the crooked brook
in its smokestacks full of steam
A pavement full of pounding hoofs
and concrete cracks so mean
It's cobblestones past quiet homes
filled with small -town dreams
My favorite sons, with all their guns,
Washington sleeps in the sun,
Foreign lands with desert sands
can feed all of their poor
breathing thing won't have to cry for more
I can see it in the evening as
the night comes fading in
I can feel it in the morning as
Will you help me, walking down
Will you help me, mother,
If everything you said and done
had n't paid out at the till
If thoughts were trials and some
of us suffered for free will
If one and one and one and
If all the love that's in this world
at once just pulled us still
4.7
