Broken toys strewn across the floor
Of a young boy’s land of innocence
Candles lit, to shine a path of shame
Away from this plastic heaven
Baby’s crying in the next room
I check the cradle and all I see
Is a little boy made of gold
With his halo glued on
Carolers sing their souls out to an empty house
Made of strings brighter than the sun
Green eyes as far as any eye can see
And they’re carrying boxes of decay
A winter so cold
A savior so bold
To give his name away to gold
The lives he saved are sold
Baby’s crying in the next room
But a cradle is all I see
Sunday, March 2, 2008
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