Between the cracks (3am) by John Mark McMillan Hope grows between cracks in the asphalt In the downtown ghetto streets that contour The government More

Between the cracks (3am) by John Mark McMillan Hope grows between cracks in the asphalt In the downtown ghetto streets that contour The government housing intentions of my heart No one notices the daisies don't care About gang related violence As long as they get enough air and water and sun They're all just fine Who would've thought it but life is finding a way Through this wasteland of cynics, concrete, and pain There's a man down here somewhere between The Saturday cartooons and the dirty magazines He's raising the dead in the graveyards Where we've laid down our dreams His name is Hope Hope stands high on the 15th floor On a Christmas tree perched about the ledge of a fortress A steel that's trying to hard to be somebody's home As it sees my attention from I-85 though the throws of the day Were still writhing inside I lifted my head as I drove home that night and knew Everything was gonna be fine Who would've thought it but life is finding a way Through this wasteland of cynics, concrete, and pain There's a man down here not worried or afraid That some politician forgot all the promises he made And he's raising the dead in the graveyards Where we've laid down our dreams His name is Hope Can you hear him outside he's been singing all night He's saying when you gonna come out from behind These paper thin walls, your cardboard box realities Who would've thought it but life is finding a way Through this wasteland of cynics, concrete, and pain There's a man down here not <b>...</b>
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Leonard Cohen lyrics: It's coming through a hole in the air, from those nights in Tiananmen Square. It's coming from the feel that this More

Leonard Cohen lyrics: It's coming through a hole in the air, from those nights in Tiananmen Square. It's coming from the feel that this ain't exactly real, or it's real, but it ain't exactly there. From the wars against disorder, from the sirens night and day, from the fires of the homeless, from the ashes of the gay: Democracy is coming to the USA It's coming through a crack in the wall; on a visionary flood of alcohol; from the staggering account of the Sermon on the Mount which I don't pretend to understand at all. It's coming from the silence on the dock of the bay, from the brave, the bold, the battered heart of Chevrolet: Democracy is coming to the USA It's coming from the sorrow in the street, the holy places where the races meet; from the homicidal bitchin' that goes down in every kitchen to determine who will serve and who will eat. From the wells of disappointment where the women kneel to pray for the grace of God in the desert here and the desert far away: Democracy is coming to the USA Sail on, sail on O mighty Ship of State! To the Shores of Need Past the Reefs of Greed Through the Squalls of Hate Sail on, sail on, sail on, sail on. It's coming to America first, the cradle of the best and of the worst. It's here they got the range and the machinery for change and it's here they got the spiritual thirst. It's here the family's broken and it's here the lonely say that the heart has got to open in a fundamental way: Democracy is coming to the USA It's coming <b>...</b>
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