He begged me for my wages.
Twenty cents a day he said,
As he pointed to the garbage.
I turned my head and tried to sleep;
But I heard a rhythm and a saying repeat.
Feed the Children…
Feed the Children….
Another man entered my twisted dream
His face was soft.
His shallow eyes gleamed.
As his hand outstretched he beamed and screamed
Feed the Children…
Feed the Children…
I awoke in fright at the change of scene.
I thought these men both had grand schemes.
I reached my hand to wipe the thought away
When I heard a hauntingly soft voice say
Feed the Children…
Feed the Children…
I took a sip of water and put down my glass.
I raised my head and had to gasp.
A shy little girl was at my feet begging
Feed the Children.
Feed the Children.
I rubbed my eyes and thought in fright
About the dreams I had that night
I called that number I saw on the screen
With the face of the man that begged me to feed
The Children.
I feared that I had too long a wait.
I feared that I had changed my fate.
The children had died from lack of food,
Their bellies filled with gas, stretched from volume.
I hoped that I would not miss the rapture;
For dead children is a dead future.
So I beg you now with all sincerity to
Feed the Children…
Feed the Children.
« return.