Family dwelling on a twelve inch screen.
Sunlight on each windowsill.
Now the motion picture is a still-life scene.
How did life become so still?
And I in passing chanced to meet a stranger on my street.
He told me this whole block's coming down.
He smiled and crossed a vacant lot.
Somehow I never thought we'd move to shantytown.

Ghosts like garbage blowing down the street
they whisper I remember this:
planning more than trying to make both ends meet.
Futures fading like a kiss.
And I in passing chanced to meet a neighbor from my street.
He turned his head and looked at the ground.
I asked him why he had to go.
He said he didn't know and left for shantytown.

Who will mend these broken promises?
Sane hands weave a crazy quilt.
Open season for the doubting Thomases.
Houses jack has never built.

And now the echo of your feet is fading from my street.
This silence that must pass for sound.
But please don't wave good-bye too soon
'cause I'll be seeing you right here in shantytown.