i am surrounded by a longing for love,
and dust.
dust, dust, dust.

tiny eyes watching, we walk carefully
they’re still learning, we’re remembering to breathe
through the dust.

beds so crowded, clothes so torn
there’s a war against the world going on.

this is the playground of death,
children are his cans to kick
with their smiles as small as themselves

pitter patter, pitter patter, the littlest footsteps
are walking into my heart.

our group tiptoes through their house
bringing good homes and love
but there’s never enough

oh, how i wish i could turn dust to love