| If you take a train with me | 
| Uptown to the misery | 
| Of ghetto streets in morning light | 
| Ooh, they’re always night | 
| Take a window seat, put down your Times | 
| You can read between the lines | 
| Just meet the faces that you meet | 
| Beyond the window’s pane | 
| And it might begin to teach you | 
| How to give a damn about your fellow man | 
| And it might begin to teach you | 
| How to give a damn about your fellow man | 
| Where would you go to sleep sometimes | 
| With rats instead of nursery rhymes? | 
| With a hunger and your other children by her side | 
| And you wonder if you’ll share your bed | 
| With something else that must be fed | 
| For fear may lay beside you | 
| Or, at most, sleep down the hall | 
| And it might begin to teach you | 
| How to give a damn about your fellow man | 
| And it might begin to teach you | 
| How to give a damn about your fellow man | 
| Come and see how well despair is seasoned by the stifling air | 
| See our ghetto in the good old sizzling summertime | 
| Suppose the streets were all on fire | 
| The flames, like tempers, leaping high | 
| Suppose you lived there all your life | 
| Do you think that you would mind? | 
| And it might begin to reach you | 
| How we give a damn about our fellow man | 
| And it might begin to teach you | 
| How to give a damn about your fellow man | 
| And I might have got to reach you | 
| Oh, don’t give a damn, hmm | 
| Hmm, hmm, hmm | 
| Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm | 
| Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm | 
| Hmm, hmm, hmm | 
| Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm |