• We were born in dusty rooms where sunlight filtered in through broken windows
    Sometimes the walls were painted with our parents’ and siblings' blood

    We grew up in dark alleys, in apartments where the rusted bathtubs were base
    In the summertime parks we played tag with smiling criminals and cut throats

    We laughed at the city grit under our nails and the smoke that caressed our faces
    The scrapes and bruises we earned were trophies, our badges of honor

    We rebuilt our images with paint and dye and metal to reflect the images we had of ourselves
    Our bodies became our masterpieces and our joy

    We crafted ourselves to have sharp eyes and quick hands and tongues like knives
    But we still kept our tender hearts safe and open

    We learned to pour kisses into each others mouths like warm rain
    To mold our souls into our nerves so that every touch was a moment of trust

    We loved freely and endlessly embracing our own without worry
    Touches became talk, held hands said everything we ever need to say

    We learned to quickly tell friend from foe, to tell lies from truth and vice versa
    Sometimes we were forced to dispose of them before they hurt others

    We avoided those marked with purple and blood like the plague
    Because they were...

    We trained our feet to keep up with our wits to survive another day
    And a helping hand was always just a phone call away

    We raised the ones after us and taught them all we knew
    And in turn they taught us things we'd never seen before

    We continue the cycle, we train and live and laugh
    We make Music
    We keep our City safe
    Always

    We are the children of the Streets
    Music is our Saint