The the preacher's kid is all wasted no dope
The phychologist's girl say's she can't cope
The mechanic's son's car just barley runs
That how this world is just as sure as I'm alive
The shoemaker's kid has holes in shoe's
The phychiatrist's wife is at home with the blue's
This old world has such a strange twist of fate
While there's every reason to love,
We still find reason's to hate
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem