He's not daddy's little soldier |
| He's not Mama's little man |
| Black and blue marks on his shoulder, |
| Some deep scratches on his hand |
| |
His parents say he's crazy |
| Say he's wild, out of control |
| Though he looks for them on TV |
| There's no Shadow Child patrol |
| |
| Shadow Child in the bedroom |
| Shadow Child on the stair |
| Shadow Child in the darkness |
| When you look he's never there |
| |
He's learned to hate Dad's bottle |
| And he's learned to fear Mom's shout |
| He's learned the sting of leather |
| Without ever crying out |
| |
| Shadow Child in the bedroom |
| Shadow Child on the stair |
| Shadow Child in the darkness |
| When you look he's never there |
| |
| His parents say he's crazy |
| Say he's wild, out of control |
| Though he looks for them on TV |
| There's no Shadow Child patrol |
| |
He's not daddy's little soldier |
| He's not Mama's little man |
| Cigarette burns on his shoulder, |
| Fourteen stitches in his hand |
