Hope is a thing with feathers
That perches on the soul
Said the homeless young girl standing there
Strong against the cold.

I reached into my pocket
Said a penny for your poetry
But when I handed her a dollar bill
She was shaking her head at me.

And she said these words to me.
In my mother's house are many mansions
Though tonight I make my bed out on the street.
Where I've seen life stilled by winter's bitter chill.
In my mother's house there's mansion for me

Sleep is a silent pleasure
Behind doors with deadbolt locks,
But it's a concrete nightmare and a chance you take
On the streets in a cardboard box .
But I know about the eye of the needle
what will come to pass
When the least of us shall be the first
And the first now shall be last.
Who's homeless now I ask?

In my mother's house are many mansions.
Though tonight I make my bed out on the street
Where I've seen life stilled by winter's bitter chill.
In my mother's house there's mansion for me.

In my mother's house are many mansions.
Though tonight I make my bed out on the streets
Where I've seen lives stilled by winter's bitter chill.
In my mother's house there's a mansion for me

Where I've seen life stilled by winter's chill
In my mothers house there's a mansion for me

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches on the soul
Said the homeless young girls standing there
Strong against the cold