Under the light of a broken church. 
A flourishing garden bathes in the rays.
Tended to by a visage of beauty.  

She shines brighter than the sun.
In the gutter of these slums.
A flower still blooms.

The scent of lilies follows her 
As she sweeps over the rubble, they call home 
She brings with her a magic 

Magic that is not for humans to behold 
Magic that can cure the most grievous of wounds  
Magic that can comfort the most broken 

She is a daughter and a friend 
A lover and a mother sometimes too 
She meets so many and loves them too 

But she is fleeting 
Like the flowers she tends 
Cherish her so and protect her well

For the Flower of the Slums still blooms here