I've watched her alone,
As she faces the foam;
And I've seen how she deals with the hardships.
Her children have tried,
To inspire her pride;
And she's watched as they've died from the hardships.
Her eyes are so bright,
as a child's starry night;
Though she's gazed upon many's the morning.
And with every new dawn,
Comes the strength to go on;
And she prays that her children are learning.
What terrible truth does she know but won't tell?
In the curve of her face lies a heavenly grace;
But her eyes tell a story of hell.
And all that we know is not half of what's passed;
In the eyes of our children lies the key to our folly;
And the future is rushing in fast.
With wide open arms,
She's displayed all her charms;
While her children have gone without feeding.
And the warmth of her smile,
Won't betray any guile; As her heart, it is sorrowfully bleeding.
What comforting words are there still left to say?
Oh she's heard them before as they beat down her door,
And she prays that they'll just go away.
And their shouts and their screams tumble into her dreams in the night,
As the flower of her youth fades away with the truth,
And is plucked for all time from our sight.