by David McAdams

Genre: Folk



Just outside the city they are putting up their tents
Of blue tarps and boxes whatever they can invent
Pot of soup on the fire their blankets on the ground
In a shantytown

Each day they ask themselves just how they got here
Lost their jobs and homes and the money disappeared
They look out at the rain but cannot turn around
In a shantytown

City officials keep forcing them to move
Further away from any prospects to improve
Ain’t it like kickin a man when he’s down
In a shantytown

Hard times is a phrase that cannot define the pain
Of losing your dignity or sleepin out in the rain
It cannot describe how far it is down
To a shantytown

Strange how one day you are part of a town
The next you are searchin for a home on the ground
Ain’t it like kickin a man when he’s down
In a shantytown

They say we are all one pay check away
From riches to rags on any given day
The tents multiply on the borrowed ground
In a shanty town
In a shanty town

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