When you close your eyes there's

a frightened pride that lives

for you. That your mothers life

and your fathers eyes can't

hide. You had no choice didn't

ask the dice too fall for you.

Still your courage comes like

thunder through the skies. So

you carry time down the tortured

line where mysteries show. Well

hidden from lifes learned and

lifes wise. Mans useless ways

and worthless conversation lie

well exposed and humbled in your

smile. Always the winner, the

victor and the giver. Somewhere

through that winter you'll never

be alone. For evermore the

winner. The taker and the giver.

Somewhere through that winter

you will not grow old. Still you

run out in the morning with the

boys and the girls. The miracle

of innocence on a head of curls.

We'll search every reason

wherever we roam to find a place

for these broken hearts and

bones. We'll keep a fire on the

hillsides after the summers gone

and we'll wait here till the

war-wounded come home