Give him a toy gun
He pretends to be daddy
Who far away is fighting
In some far and distant war
But then in a child's eyes
See the hidden tears
When you have to tell him
Daddy won't be coming home

Momma always keeps her safe
Showing her warmth and love
But she knows Poppa will be back
Smelling of whiskey and angry
And in that child's eyes
She will watch him rage
Punch Momma in the stomach
Because his dinner is wrong

All around this world
We never see the truth
Because the older we become
The blinder we seem to be
And in the children's eyes
Their innocence is seen
But they see better than us
A future that is not meant to be




copyright Chris Smith 2010