They say the globe is getting warmer,
While the world's still growing cold
There's no room in the shelter,
For the hungry and the old,
People living under bridges, in confusion and despair.
Their keeping house in cardboard boxes
In the sub zero night air.
With no hope of employment there ain't much left to lose,
It's a major situation, giving me the minor blues.
On the corner stares a hooker, with the hollow looking eyes,
She'll turn a trick and score an fix an overdose an die.
By the time the county's buried her,
In a low rent pauper's grave,
Her little sister's out there on that corner sick with aids,
You won't see it in the paper 'cause it seldom makes the news,
But it's a major situation giving me the minor blues.
The minor blues is saddest with its' own sorrow and pain,
You'll know it when you hear it with its sombre sad refrain,
You say it's not my problem, say there's nothing I can do,
But this ain't some third world country,
It's right here with me and you.
It's a game-land in the school yard, no place to play and run,
Twelve year olds with crack-pots smoking ice and packin' guns,
See them hangin' round the dope house,
Gettin' high and skippin' school,
Cause no-one's at home to love them,
Teach them not to play the fool,
So the game becomes the family, the only one they ever knew,
It's a major situation, givin' me the minor blues,
Street man in the alley, in an alcoholic haze,
Built a bonfire in a barrel, keepin' warm back there for days,
Said I'd lost my wife and family, back in 1993,
Till the lord comes back to get us,
This is how it looks for me.
It's bedlam in the jailhouse as the doors revolve again,
There housing 25 where there should be eight to ten,
Streets are filled with characters, all released too soon,
It ain't because they've done their time,
It's 'cause they're out o' room.
It's called the justice system; they say it works for me and you,
But the law is laced with loopholes and cracks that let the criminals crawl through.
It's a major situation, giving me the minor blues