She stands on the front porch of an old country shack,

She has been to the city, but swears she’ll never go back,

She couldn’t believe all the things that she saw,

How could it be the Real World she’d heard so much about?

She saw cheating and lying and crime in the streets,

She saw little children begging for something to eat,

And people living in cardboard boxes, searching for heat.

While others lived in their big houses all safe and neat.

No one got along, or cared about right or wrong,

And so many people felt, like they didn’t belong,

She saw veterans, young and old, with nothing of their own,

How could the land of the free, leave the brave with no home?

She was told that the Real World was all caught up in war,

And someone said “peace” was what they’re fighting for,

She said can anybody, anywhere, explain that please?

Because it just doesn’t make sense to me…

And how could this be the Real World she’d heard so much about,

Nobody could tell her, what had gone wrong,

We need someone to tell us our part, and show us where to start,

To “Save The Real World”.

Now as she stands on the front porch, of that old wooden shack,

She thinks about the city and knows she’ll never go back,

But, she stares at the stars way up in the sky,

And prays the same prayer every night:

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“God if you’re up there, why can’t you hear us cry?

Too many people suffering, too many people die,

Won’t you send down your angels to take us by the hand,

And help us understand,

If this is all part of your plan,

Please tell us each our part and show us where to start,

To “Save The Real World.”.   🌎