Casualties of the Times: Cub

Cub

Do you know what happened to the special boy?
He was here, painting just the other day
Painting horses… in a barren field
Not far from a burning city

He hasn’t been the same
He hasn’t been the same
Remember when he came?
And I don’t think the wolves will take him back

All is quiet… in the open field
Golden grains sway gently in a subtle wind
We can hear… only the golden note
He’s hiding from thunderous tanks

He hasn’t been the same
He hasn’t been the same
Remember when he came?
And I don’t think the wolves can take him back

He hasn’t spoken now for seven days
We found him sleeping in a dry stream bed
In a year, he’ll be too old to keep
Then we’ll have to call him a man

But he hasn’t been the same
He hasn’t been the same
Remember when he came?
But now there are no wolves to take him back
Now there are no wolves to take him

Said throw him to the wolves
Throw him to the wolves
Throw him to the wolves…
Cut your teeth
Cut your teeth
Cut your teeth
Cut your teeth


March 16, 2008