Full hands and empty hearts. The first stay first, so the last play their parts.
But the poor are treasures in this world.
Riches are worthless just like words with no progress.

Bright headlights. Retreating crimson dim.
I knew my place, but I see his face. Where do we fit in?
Next to the man who pleas with cardboard and pen?
I'll flick a coin to release my guilt
Cause I don't want to think of him again.

Barefoot on barbed wire through this brick wall of selfish desire.
But I've got hope for this dark world. I've got hope for this dark world.

Every one of us has our hat in our hands.
We are "catching breaks," we are catching change.
We're beggars, some thieves. Some take, all receive.
Contentment and hearts start to lift when we see life is a gift.