Little Anthems
Sing the song of day
We have no where to go
Taste all the wine you may
The winds upon your face will blow
To alleyways or streets of gold
We take our trade it's true
There's nothing here that makes us old
We're just the young our crew
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Guitar and drum the trumpets blare
You can't forget we're here
Our style is this: clothes or bare
It's what you always fear
Plan now to let us through
These streets belong to us
Accuse us of a life that's new
We're bound to make you blush
Barry G. Wick
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