I've been running all my life Like a chicken heading for the knife Inside the farmer's pen Most of me was left behind In the school where I once learned to write With my father's pen
Mighty was the sword I thrust Until the words betrayed my trust And secrets gave away I was young and juvenile Inferno hot and volatile I had so much to say
And the children in the park are playing Suspiciously they look to me Like headstones in a graveyard swaying
Sometimes it is hard to see That all we have is what we need And I'm always wanting more When you're lost with no one else It doesn't help to find yourself It helps to find the door
And the children in the graveyard are playing And the headstones are silently waiting
History is littered with Has-beens who have never lived Do not look away This could be your destiny Unless you learn that you are free And leave behind the chains
And the children in the graves are playing And the headstones are the only thing staying