he was a boy, eight years old
a shy smile and a kind and tender soul
something different he couldn't name
it didn't matter that he knew it anyway
knew he wasn't the same
they wage war on the black asphalt
he lay in clovers outside their army wall
they said why don't you come along
but he was watching the clouds and singing songs
they knew something was wrong
Benjamin - they say he acts kind of strange
he don't play the way the other boys play
and when they've taken him for hostage
with their killing games and guns
he says could you lay me under flowers
when you are done
days turn into months and years
coming in with hope and out with air
now a man, he grows proud
but with his freedom they say he speaks to loud
so they turn it around
friendly voices and nice words too
and he yearns to believe them, wouldn't you
follows them out of the crowded bar
and then they drive to the country in their car
where no one sees but the stars
Benjamin - he tries hard to be so brave
to sticks and stones
and the cruel words that people say
and as their stripping off his clothes
to make a pile of what he was
he's begging 'why oh why?'
and they're answering 'because'
morning comes with the blackbird song
does his mother sense that something is wrong
lied awake against the sleeping town
his body casting a shadow on the ground
with his head hanging down
Benjamin - is made a scarecrow in the field
a crown of thorns
to crucify the way they feel
and before light fades to blackness
he sees swirling of his blood
and thinks what pretty patterns
hatred makes on love
he says could you lay me under flowers
when you are done