Time Of The Blackbirds

Golden leaves are falling down

from the old tree

while the blackbirds are landing

on the field, beside the sea

the singing birds had left this country weeks ago

its cold outside

I turn the heater on

but there are some people in this country

without a bed and a home

they are freezing, they are begging

on the streets alone

on our way to the church

we won't see their hungry eyes

we forget their reaching hands while we pray to jesus christ

beside a plastic christmas tree

a happy child gets a new coat

while the snow forms a shroad

on a cold body down the road