Let Me Show You What It's Like...

Let me show you what it's like

To be caught in the middle of nowhere and forever.

The wounds are real,

Although they are bandaged well.

No one really wants to see the hurt anyway;

No one wants to hear the cries.

We are too caught up in the facade,

The sensationalism,

The saying that it could never happen to us.

Who is this us anyway?

Is it the mother who sends her children to bed hungry each night,

To the sound of the nightly news blaring through the wall

And the smell of marijuana smoke tickling their noses?

There has to be a better way.

Or is this us the CEO with the five BMWs in his large garage -

Things he bought to make up for the emptiness of his house,

His relationship with his children, his wife, his ex-wife, his job that he hates?

Maybe there is such a thing as too much space.

Maybe the us are the ones who sit in the middle,

Saying just enough so that we don't really have to say anything.

No one really wants to see the hurt anyway.

Let me show you what it's like.

We argue over the economy, the war, gas prices.

No one mentions education much these days.

Silent cries of millions of children drowned out by more important things.

No one really wants to see the hurt anyway;

No one wants to hear the cries.

We are too caught up.

This could never happen to us.

These are not our children being misdirected by a lost generation,

Being punished by the greed of cheap solutions,

Being hardened by a lack of care.

Because if these are our children,

Then what does this say about us,

Being caught as we are in the middle of nowhere and forever?

Someone has to see the hurt.

Someone has to hear the cries.

We cannot stay trapped here for long.