I give you a brush,
and tell you to paint,
you're no professional,
oh Bless you you saint.

I give you a stick,
and I tell you to fight,
you tell me it hurts,
and I say, "You're right!"

I give you love,
and you don't know what to do,
I hand you my heart,
and all you say is...ew!

Well,
you are who you are,
and I am who I am,
thank God for the that,
and for Uncle Sam.

I won't tell you who you should be,
nor will I guess, on who you could be,
because you are who you are,
and you let me be me!

You are,
a B-E-A-YOUTIFUL person,
inside (and out)
this I say completely,
with nary a doubt!

You maybe scarred,
scared, and blotted,
but there's no soul here,
that hasn't been spotted.

You are unique,
in every sense imaginable,
you've got a way
to turn every head at every table!

You are who you are,
yes sir, there's no denying,
weather you obey the law
or you enjoy defying!

Either way,
you are who you are,
and "What you are is beautiful!"

You Are!

Think about the children!
The Children!
...So they cry and wail,
when all we do is cram them in boats,
and let them set sail.

We all want, and hope for a better future,
for you, for me, for us and them.
When we really are missing out, on the one true gems.

The Children!

Ah yes, the crumb-crunchers,
the ankle-bitters,
the moving, sleeping, babbling, leaking toilet and faucet,
we really don't know what we have,
as per usual, until we have truly lost it.

The Children.

They'll only be children once,
in respect to their age,
and then they'll grow up,
start a whole new chapter,
with the turning of a page.

And so quickly does the page turn.

The Children were us,
and now more are coming,
when they start to cry,
where exactly do we go running?

Be the one to give them hope,
be the one to tell them to follow their dreams,
be the one to teach them what's right and wrong,
teach them, teach them, to sing their own song.

This life is cruel, the world more so,
lessons can be learned the easy and the hard way,
but they have to be learned,
learned some day.

So start young,
with the precious little ones,
teach them all that is right and well,
to your daughters and sons.

Let them be children,
for the sake of their future,
let them have their past,
because they'll only be children once,
before the years start running fast.

So think about the Children,
yours, mine and ours,
keep them safe, and teach them well,
or they'll be rotten, and sours.

This is for the children so small,
think of one,
you think of all.

For the Children.

How?
Just how?
Did you know,
past my smiles and reassurance,
through my antics and all,
that underneath, behind my eyes, that I was in pain,
I was taking a fall.

How did you know?

You saw right through me,
like no one else could,
you sent me words of reassurance,
like no one else would.

So how did you know?

I hid it so well, no one else could catch on,
yet there you were,
to catch me,
before I was long and gone.

How did you know?

It's unnatural,
uncanny,
nearing impossible!
How you do what you do,
but I'm glad you did,
I'm really, really glad, that you knew.

But did you know?

You're my secret confessor,
though neither of us know it yet.
Because now with you,
I know my heart is set.

I can show you the things,
that only I hide below,
because it seems I just can't hide it,
because you always seem to know.

I Love... You.

But you'll never know.