k.d. lang
as things start to surface
tears come on down
scars of childhood
in a small town
hurt she pushed inward
starting to show
now she´ll do some talking
but he´ll never know
tables have turned now
with a child of her own
but she´s blind to the difference
what´s taught is that´s known
numbed by reaction
stripped of the trust
a young hheart is broken
not aware that it´s just
a family tradition
the strength of this land
where what´s right and wrong
is the back of a hand
turns girls into women
a boy to a man
but the rights of the children
have nowhere to stand
memories of children
are written in stone
some they get buried
not to be shown
still they do linger
deep down inside
like a seed that´s been planted
and won´t be denied