He goes outside to get some air.
Be careful now, its harsh out there.
All the hustlers,
All the thugs.

Dope fiends try and get their fix.
Pay him no mind, he's only six.
Anything,
To get some drugs.

He goes over the fence and through the alley.
The rain makes a river through a trash heap valley.
Sees a homeless man,
With a lonely mug.

Scraped knees and elbows. -He's quite thin.
With his spoon and bucket made of tin.
He goes outside,
Collecting Bugs.

The evil, the chaos, it has not found him.
Oblivious to the world around him.
He picks up spiders,
Ants, and slugs.

And while he plays the streets are wild.
Stray bullets scream past this innocent child.
His mother sees.
Her heart strings tug.

She stops the boy from his care-free playing.
Because the world around him is decaying.
She holds her son.
He holds his bugs.