Listen.

Listen.

One heart beating, two hearts bleeding,
She sits in the alley alone.
His soul is weeping, her spirit receding.
Her eyes have hardened to stone.

The merciless rain, heaven’s refrain,
Pours down on her bare and bruised skin.
The people on main look on in disdain
At the trouble she ‘got herself in’.

They walk right on by, snug, warm and dry.
They dismiss her dying soul without care.
As she sits there a sigh, not even a cry,
Does she offer the cold, cruel, night air.

He wishes her fear would all disappear,
And she’d remember the warmth of His sun.
Oh, when will they hear, with their dull, content ears,
The cry of the Heavenly One?