Pocket of Change

The beggars have got it:
'can you spare me some change?'
Sure, I'd love to, but,
I'm all out of world peace
and I can't solve the problems
that plague the middle east.

And my back pocket seems
to be all out of cures,
for the diseases
that the everyday child endures.

I'd love to bring shelter,
but I'm all out of bricks,
and sticks won't hold
so tonight, if you're cold,
please don't curse
to make matters worse,
I'm fresh out of kisses,
for the boy who still misses,
his Dad who is hostage
to the Government's power,
that grows by the hour,
while children will cower
in fright in their beds
covers over their heads.

And I have no solution.

Sorry kid, I've got no delete
for the picture they posted,
for the shame of defeat.
No rewind, just to find,
that a world without slaves,
finds better solutions,
as the world misbehaves.
I'm not your mother,
just another dreamer,
redeemer,
Hope's final stand,
but I'm banned from speaking,
because I speak treacherous lines,
that compromise lives
that the council defines.

So my pockets are empty,
if you do not believe,
that one man makes a difference,
against the ones who deceive.
There's no small change
I can bring, that will fix this disaster,
so united we stand,
we can fix the world faster.