It was a lonely night at 3 a.m., in a Midwestern city, when a silent shape went walking by, for the last time out of town. She had no place to go, but even so she was going just the same-to those city lights that burn at night, though she didn’t know the game. God help the children of the street. Why they’re there is not really plain. Searching for something that’s not at home, guess we’re the ones to blame. A Teddy bear on her made-up bed, a pet waiting by the door; God help us through this lonely night, but God please help them more. It was early in the afternoon in a small Southern town, just the clothes on his back, not even a sack when he walked out of town. Leaving Ma-Ma alone with five children at home, people only offering them pity; it seems more every day they keep running away to be swallowed by the city. God help the children of the street. Why they’re there is not really plain. Searching for something that’s not at home, guess we’re the ones to blame. A baseball bat and a fishing cap left waiting by the door. God help us through this lonely night but God please help them more.