The Boy With Fire In His Eyes
The boy with fire in his eyes
Stands there waiting.
It is his soul inside;
It keeps him standing.
Oh God, oh God, Dios!
You didn't hear me.
And even if you did,
You weren't listening.
And even if you were,
Here am I, I try to help,
Attempt to clear away the mud.
Yet ev'ry movement shovels more
Of precious lives mixed with the muck
Why can't the words I say mean what
I meant to say to you that time?
You heard my voice, but not my mind.
Those words I said: I meant them not!
If–death–is such a good thing, then–
Why do people go horribly wrong before