There are soldiers in this country
With their chins on windowsills
They’re too young to tote a gun
And too old for us to kill
I’ve seen their eyes in checkout lines
Then I wonder where do they go?
The people I see every day in the street
Well I suppose some of them know
Now some are the daughters of little girls
Or the sons of wicked ones
Long before they ever learn to walk
They’ve gotta learn to run
It wasn’t love but fear that brought them here
So they know no love at all
And they always go to the only home they know
Where the darkest shadows fall
Now we can cover our ears and close our eyes
What we don’t know we can’t tell
But I wonder anyway how long we’re gonna say
“Oh well, oh well, oh well.”
Now maybe you’re to blame and maybe you’re not
But have you seen the truth unfold?
It was a Saturday night there was a terrible fight
Between a father and a 4-year-old
Eli died with a fist in his eye
Whose fist well it’s hard to say
But his heart was the size of his old man’s eyes
When the doc said, “DOA.”
Eli’s mama never liked the way that his daddy taught him how to sing
How the human mind can get so out of line
Has surely got me wondering
