When people see her in the street br On her way to work or the market place, br They see the sway of her dress br And the beauty of her face; br Such a wonderful woman they suppose br Without seeing her soul br Hidden from the world, br Without glancing the secret sadness she conceals. br br Sometimes there is laughter at the bar, br Loud conversations at cafes, br Non-serious moments of seemingly joyfulness br Surrounding herself with friends, br But those friends fail to notice br The tears that linger within. br br I’m not really better than the rest, br My imagination sees her singing in the moonlight br And wrapped in the embrace of a handsome man, br But somehow I know she is hurting br And I just want to walk her home br And pray with all the birds in urban trees br To keep her safe and make her happy.