Who Will House The Orphan
A song made by BLAKK POT
Who Will House The Orphan
A song made by BLAKK POT
(Slow, echoing guitar riff with a distant thunderclap)
(Spoken, over a deep, rumbling bassline)
Listen... hear the cry of the innocent.
In a world of plenty, why the empty bowl?
This is a question for the Most High...
a song for the little ones.
(Steady, heartbeat riddim kicks in)
Who is the caretaker of the orphan child?
When the night is cold and the world is wild
Death, oh Death, why so cruel to the meek?
When the little one is hungry, and too weak to speak
Rich man's dog, it eat belly full
While the orphan cries, his belly a pool
Of empty hope, a hollow sound
Tell me, oh Jah, is hope to be found?
(Harmony voices join, bass heavy)
Who will take care? Who will feed the soul?
Who will make the broken, broken whole?
A lot of rich man around, but none want to know
Blakk Pot said so, the truth be told
Oh, the orphan, the orphan...
Who will house the orphan child?
(Guitar skanks get sharper)
The scripture said, in His image we are made
Then why the wickedness, why the cruel blade?
Father, why some richer, why some poorer?
Why the truck pusher sweat, yet still endure?
Every hour he toils, the sun beats down
Yet poverty remains his only crown
You said no food for the lazy man's hand
But he works the hardest in this weary land
Who will take care? Who will feed the soul?
Who will make the broken, broken whole?
A lot of rich man around, but none want to know
Blakk Pot said so, the truth be told
Oh, the orphan, the orphan...
Who will house the orphan child?
(Music drops to just bass and drums, hypnotic)
Jah, see the suffering
Jah, hear the plea
Are we not brothers?
Are we not free?
The sweating brow, the empty plate
Is this the doing of a twisted fate?
Or is the heart of man so stone and cold
That we let the little ones grow up old, before their time?
Who will take care? Who will feed the soul?
Who will make the broken, broken whole?
A lot of rich man around, but none want to know
Blakk Pot said so, the truth be told
Oh, the orphan, the orphan...
Who will house the orphan child?
(Music fades to a single, melancholic keyboard note)
(Spoken, slowly)
So I ask again... in this concrete jungle, this land of milk and honey...
Who will be the father? Who will be the mother?
The rich man in his castle, the poor man at his gate...
But the orphan... the orphan has no gate at all.
God, please send a helper. Send a heart.
'Cause only love... only love can heal the wound.
Blakk Pot said so... and the world still needs to know.
(Final, deep bass note holds, rain sound)
