[00:27.13]Hope grows between
[00:28.94]the cracks in the asphalt
[00:31.05]in the down downtown
[00:32.40]ghetto streets that contour the government
[00:36.35]housing intentions of my heart
[00:42.70]And no one notices
[00:44.88]the daisies don't care
[00:46.89]about gang related violence
[00:49.12]as long as they get enough air and water and sun
[00:53.89]they're all just fine
[02:07.26][00:59.07]Who would have thought it but life is finding a way
[01:03.79]through this wasteland of cynics, concrete, and pain
[02:18.87][01:10.75]There's a man down here somewhere between
[02:22.71][01:14.76]those Saturday cartoons and the dirty magazines
[01:18.83]He's raising the dead in graveyards
[02:30.91][01:22.44]where we've laid down our dreams
[02:33.75][01:25.85]and His name is hope
[01:35.10]Hope stands high
[01:36.78]on the fifteenth floor
[01:38.76]of a Christmas tree perched
[01:40.93]about the ledge
[01:42.12]of a fortress of steel
[01:43.81]that's trying too hard
[01:45.83]to be somebody's home
[01:50.67]as it seized
[01:51.90]my attention from I-85
[01:54.78]though the throes of the day were
[01:57.09]still writhing inside
[01:58.68]I lifted my head
[02:00.78]as I drove home that night
[02:02.88]and knew that everything was gonna be fine.
[02:11.92]through this wasteland of cynics, concrete, and pain.
[02:26.94]He's raising the dead in graveyards
[03:45.98][03:38.18][03:29.79][03:21.81][03:14.25][03:05.84]His name is hope
[03:53.44][03:41.23][03:33.18][03:25.51][03:17.45][03:09.01]everybody needs a little
[04:30.63]Can hear him outside
[04:32.87]He's been singing all night
[04:34.76]He's saying, "When are you gonna
[04:36.30]come out from behind
[04:38.91]these paper thin walls of your
[04:41.25]cardboard box reality.

Hope grows between
the cracks in the asphalt
in the down downtown
ghetto streets that contour the government
housing intentions of my heart
And no one notices
the daisies don't care
about gang related violence
as long as they get enough air and water and sun
they're all just fine
Who would have thought it but life is finding a way
through this wasteland of cynics, concrete, and pain
There's a man down here somewhere between
those Saturday cartoons and the dirty magazines
He's raising the dead in graveyards
where we've laid down our dreams
and His name is hope
Hope stands high
on the fifteenth floor
of a Christmas tree perched
about the ledge
of a fortress of steel
that's trying too hard
to be somebody's home
as it seized
my attention from I-85
though the throes of the day were
still writhing inside
I lifted my head
as I drove home that night
and knew that everything was gonna be fine.
through this wasteland of cynics, concrete, and pain.
He's raising the dead in graveyards
His name is hope
everybody needs a little
Can hear him outside
He's been singing all night
He's saying, "When are you gonna
come out from behind
these paper thin walls of your
cardboard box reality.