Little feet on dusty roads, Hands too small to carry the load, Does this child has to work? Why no school for this little guy? In a place where children are sold, A mother’s heart, seems so cold, She says, “Go, my child, and find the sun, Maybe you’ll have what I’ve had none.” (Pre-chorus) And we look on from far away, With full plates and things to say, But truth gets lost between the lines, Of what is his and what is mine. (Chorus) Who are we to Judge? How can happiness be measured? Is it family and health Or is it all decided by wealth? Sometimes, work is survival. Sometimes, survival is the only dream. (Verse 2) A city child with toys galore, But a father locked behind the door, A village girl with calloused skin, Yet laughter rings from deep within. We measure worth in gold and steel, But miss the strength of what they feel, A simple meal, a sister’s hand, The things no money understands. (Pre-chorus) And we sit high in towers tall, Forget how sometimes less is all, A life can bloom from broken ground, If love and kindness still are found. (Chorus) Who are we to Judge? How can happiness be measured? Is it family and health Or is it all decided by wealth? Sometimes, work is survival. Sometimes, survival is the only dream. (Bridge) Perspective’s a tender thread, It’s not just hunger, it’s what’s unsaid. Behind each face, a different fight, A different kind of wrong or right. (Final chorus) Who are we to judge, When love wears different clothes? When broken dreams still glow In places we don’t know. Is it better to work, If it’s the only way To lift a child beyond the day, To help them find their way? Poor people can be happy too, With health, with love, and friends around. (Outro) So take a breath, and softly see, The world is not just you or me. A little grace, a little touch, Who are we, Who are we to judge?
