Hugh McDonald - The Faces In The Street lyrics

They lie, the men who tell us, for reasons of their own, That want is here a stranger, and that misery's unknown; For where the nearest suburb and the city proper meet My windowsill is level with the faces in the street Drifting past, drifting past, To the beat of weary feet While I sorrow for the owners of the faces in the street. And cause I have for sorrow, in a land so young and fair, To see upon those faces stamped the marks of Want and Care; I look in vain for traces of the fresh and fair and sweet In sallow, sunken faces that are drifting through the street Drifting on, drifting on, To escape the restless feet; I can sorrow for the owners of the faces in the street. In hours before the dawning dims the starlight in the sky The wan and weary faces first begin to trickle by, Increasing as the moments hurry on with morning feet, Till like a palid river flow the faces in the street Flowing in, flowing in, To the beat of hurried feet Ah! I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street. The human river dwindles when 'tis past the hour of eight, Its waves go flowing faster in the fear of being late; But slowly drag the moments, whilst beneath the dust and heat The city grinds the owners of the faces in the street Grinding body, grinding soul Yielding scarce enough to eat Oh! I sorrow for the owners of the faces in the street. And then the only faces till the sun is sinking down Are those of outside toilers and the idlers of the town, Save here and there a face that seems a stranger in the street Tells of the city's unemployed upon their weary beat Drifting round, drifting round To the tread of listless feet Ah! my heart aches for the owner of the faces in the street.