There is hope for a tree, if it is cut down that it will sprout again, and that its tender shoots will not cease. Though its root may grow old in the earth, and its stump may die in the ground, yet at the scent of water it will bud and bring forth branches like a plant." (Job 14: 7). Let our words be the scent of water.

Chid of the ghetto, is there hope for you?
Or were you cursed from your mother's womb?
Within your life, does destiny lies?
Is there a dream within you that cries?

If one within you lay
Who will come your way
And with you pray
For that destiny and dream

For you are a child whose parents seem
Not to care less
If you attain your best
And become all the Father created you to be

So child of the ghetto what will become of you
At times even society with you want nothing to do
Because it's hard and sometimes thankless too
To pull that destiny out of you

Child of the ghetto for the Father nothing is too hard
Even when life deals you the wrong card
Know that His word still says
"I delight in taking the foolish things of this world to confound the wisdom of the wise!" (Selah)