Who will overlook legal status,
and see them as your children,
those made in your image?
Who will overlook legal status,
and see them as your children,
those made in your image?
Lord, a little hope is a good thing,
a little light, a little newness, a little chance.
Clouds amble across the divide, a perfectly blue backdrop;
the tree line is within arm’s reach, lone pines determined to live.
Ah Lord, if only I stopped to listen, give attention, eyes closed;
at home I would hear the music of the West.