John Schumann - Faces In The Street

They lie, the men who tell us for reasons of their own
That want is here a stranger, and that misery's unknown
For where the nearest suburb and the city proper meet
My window sill is level with the faces in the street
Drifting past, drifting past
To the beat of weary feet
I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street

And cause I have to sorrow, in a land so young and fair
To see upon those faces the marks of Want and Care
I look in vain for traces of the fresh and fair and sweet
In the sallow, sunken faces that are drifting through the street
Drifting on, drifting on
To the scrape of restless feet
I sorrow for the owners of the faces in the street

I wonder would the apathy of wealthy men endure
Were all their windows level with the faces of the Poor
Ah Mammon's slaves, your knees shall knock, your hearts in terror beat
When your God demands a reason for the sorrows of the street
The wrong things and the bad things
And the sad things that we meet
In the filthy lane and alley, and the cruel and heartless street

Once I cried 'Oh, God Almighty if Thy might doth still endure
Now show me in a vision for the wrongs of Earth a cure'
And, lo with shops all shuttered I saw a city's street
And in the warning distance heard the tramp of many feet
Pouring on, pouring on
To a drum's loud threatening beat
And the war hymns and the cheering of the people in the street

And so it must be while the world goes rolling round its course
The warning pen shall write in vain, the warning voice grow hoarse
And kindled eyes all blazing bright with revolution's heat
Flashing swords reflecting rigid faces in the street
Coming near, coming near
To a drum's dull distant beat
Then I saw the army that was marching down the street