Only A Song

I wouldn't make a sound if I wasn't
so angry.
I wouldn't be running if there wasn't so far
to go.
I wouldn't keep on if there wasn't something
worth keeping.
I want to believe that
this mountain can be moved.
But this is only a song...
it can't change the world.
I get a little scared when I'm driving through
the ghetto.
There's a part of me
that wants to hide;
there's a part of me
that wants to move in. Because even though
I grew up in the suburbs, I didn't really grow
until I learned how so many others lived.
But this is only a song...
it can't change the world.
I'm digging, digging deep
in myself.
But who needs a shovel
when you have a little boy like mine?
This ain't the world
that I want to give him:
people racing around in cars,
and cities you can't even walk across.
This is only a song...
it can't change the world.
I've been thinking about Providence-
and craving a Root Beer Float.
I didn't make these rules, but it's come time for us
to row this boat!
And on the horizon I see windmills
spouting up in rows.
There's young folks farming, and a few
that are going to vote.
But this is only a song...
it can't change the world.
So why try?
Why even sing at all?
I picture the Harlem Globetrotters dancing
like mosquitoes with a basketball.
Because there is beauty in freedom,
and folks like me came over on boats,
flew in on planes, crawled under fences,
and fought wars, just to find a place
to be free.
But this is only a song...
it can't change the world.
This is only a song...
it can't change the world.
This is only a song...
it can't change the world.