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