Ghosts

Sweet Maria of the southern wilds
Patron saint of this lonesome mile
Got evicted and lost her child
Try as they might they can't
Take her smile
Six-string Joe used to play the blues
Down on Beale and Union avenue
Pawned his guitar for a plate of food
Got a lot of soul but none on his shoes
These are some people you're likely to meet
If you ever look up when you're shufflin' your feet
Can the richest nation afford empathy?
For the ghosts of this American dream
Sarah sells street papers by the interstate
Her husband beat her 'til the day she ran away
Started drinkin' heavy to push aside the pain
Sober now, ya ask her how
Says I take it day by day
Old John lost his arm to a bomb in the war
Been tryin' to find a job since 1974
No address and post traumatic stress
Shut many a door
Came home an unknown
Sayin' what are we fightin' for?
These are some people you're likely to meet
If you ever look up when you're shufflin' your feet
Can the richest nation afford empathy?
For the ghosts of this American dream
And I don't know the reason why
So many turn a blind eye
Maybe they don't wanna see
Don't wanna see
When we hit hard times
It comes to mind
Maybe that could be me
Maybe that could be me