How many times am I a part of the rushing crowd, pushing the homeless, the needy, the hurting, aside?

Cry your tears to a heedless moon,
Hopeless dawn will be rising soon,
So cry, cry,
To the careless sky.

The rushing crowd might pause to stare,
But no one knows, nor do they care.
So cry, cry,
As they pass you by.

You're just another hopeless face,
Adrift among a heartless race.
So cry, cry,
'Til the tears run dry.


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