It's 6: 30 am, sun rises on the city again, And hands reach over From the bedclothes warm, And punch that button on the stupid alarm, And a baby starts to cry And the coffee goes on, But they don't even know: That this is the day that the Lord has made They were meant to rejoice and be glad in it For the times and the seasons Are in Your hands But they don't even know. It's 8: 30 am, they're walking off to school again, An angel at their shoulder And a pocket full of hope, And a natural resistance determined to cope, With whatever lies before them On the slippery slope But they don't even know: It's 5: 30pm, they're all sitting down to eat again, She's a single young mother, He's a noisy child, He's a lonely lost father who's forgotten his smile, They're a family in trouble, But they're gonna get by But they don't even know: It's 10.30 pm, sunset upon this city again, It's a circle of life On a dead end train, Is it just another morning with some more of the same? Shouldn't somebody be singing, A simple refrain So that they might even know?