Ballad of the Weary

The tired and lost
We wander, son
We wander through stream and field
We alone know the true cost of life
A price we shall not yield

The tired and lost
We ask, dear daughter
Not to be pitied or hated
We know that life is only lived
By those who are devastated

The tired and lost
We say, sweet mother
That we are at last free
In spite of this we know that freedom
Can never truly be

The tired and lost
We lie, good father
We know we are forsaken
We do not want to accept this so
We pretend we are mistaken