see that man
he holds his child;
so sweet, so tenderly

her youthful face
composed in rest;
an awful symphony

his grasp is soft
and gentle, though
his form contorts with grief

he drowns in pain
'midst mighty tears;
death, once again, the thief

see that man
he holds his gun;
so tight, so carefully

his youthful face
occults the fear,
from which he cannot flee

his grasp is firm
and stalwart, though
inside, he hides his grief

he drowns in pain
'neath hidden tears;
death, once again, the thief

see that man
he holds his plans;
so well, so cunningly

his careful face
hides all his pain;
he wants no one to see

his grasp is sure
yet cautious, for
not all share his belief

he drowns in fear
not suff'ring tears;
death, once again, the thief

what is it that
we fail to see
when we look at others so?

that let's us feign
there is no pain;
our blindness, it's the foe.