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.