Lyrics
Can you picture a little boy
Draging wood down the lane?
Grandma waiting for him brother,
Playing outside in the rain
Each day we hear the score,
Before not after shots of war
And the road to him is love,
But the love is never more
Wishing it all to end
Enraged by the slaughterin'
Thoughts explode like my head's a grenade and I drawed the pin
Talking to men with one choice: to run off or defend
Must punish to win
Gotta let that gun off for ya kin
The only laws is 'no laws at all'
Once it begins upon the smell of blood,
Violence is absorbed into the skin
And the thoughts of kids,
Caught up should torture people to death
Now freedom's with them,
See if they morph and see any sence
Yeah
Can you picture a little boy
Draging wood down the lane?
Grandma waiting for him brother,
Playing outside in the rain
Each day we hear the score,
Before not after shots of war
And the road to him is love,
But the love is never more
Not all pictures of war are,
Drawn in the news
So we paint 'em a little more,
Like George Gittoes do
Jaded because we didn't hear them calls coming through
How we'd savour our days,
If we had to walk in them shoes
Countries can't build,
Without the support for the youth
They lost when their most important,
Resources abused,
Forming our views
And not picking up on the cues
Inner-city blues stop many from listening to the clues
Voices on mute,
And so we wisper this to you
No time for school,
Many children be enlisted to be troops
And we walk, thinking,
That the system got us screwed
Like we taught
Just to keep a short distance from the truth
When scores are born
Only to be drifting to a noose
When they're gone
We'll be saying lord forgive, we never knew
Got a question why many,
Got there scriptures misconstrued
And why spending on wepons,
And not assistance is the rule
Yeah
Can you picture a little boy
Draging wood down the lane?
Grandma waiting for him brother,
Playing outside in the rain
Each day we hear the score,
Before not after shots of war
And the road to him is love,
But the love is never more
Yeah
We're caught up in the pictures that they have shown us
And not the millions of innocents that been blown up
Cold hearts disconnecting us from our own blood
For their objectives it's best that they blindfold us
Can you picture a little boy
Draging wood down the lane?
Grandma waiting for him brother,
Playing outside in the rain
We're caught up in the pictures that they have shown us
And not the millions of innocents that been blown up
Cold hearts disconnecting us from our own blood
For their objectives it's best that they blindfold us
Can you picture a little boy
Draging wood down the lane?
Grandma waiting for him brother,
Playing outside in the rain