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 Tuesday's child is full of grace. Wednesday's child is full of woe. Thursday's child has far to go. Friday's child is loving and giving. Saturday's child works hard for a living, But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day Is bonny and blithe and good and gay’ That inner city concrete Never used to be this cold No longer full of promise Streets no longer paved with gold Walk along these rolled up sidewalks Take a look around One can’t help but wonder What has happened to our town These streets were so alive Most nights we’d revel until dawn Now they empty so much quicker By night’s end, we’re all but gone What used to be the center Now better seen from the outside Been replaced by bedroom hamlets With more ethic, with more pride What have they done to our town The place we used to call our home The people came from miles and miles away What have they done to our town The place where we thought we’d grow old Has just grown empty, just grown cold What have they done to our town That inner city sanctum Growing restless, running wild Has given up its innocence No longer Friday’s Child Our leaders, so oblivious With blind eyes they turn away If our children are our future Then we’re losing more each day Soldiers of misfortune Waging war upon these streets Killing, shooting, stabbing Picking people off like skeet Weapons of our time We chose our combat hand to hand Now our town is so much different Eye for eye, man for man What have they done to our town The place we used to call our home The people came from miles and miles away What have they done to our town The place where we thought we’d grow old Has just grown empty, just grown cold What have they done to our town |