I wrote it as an anthem
for the children, stuck in families,
which are broken at home.
There’s no cable on the two-channel television.
Your wearing glasses just to see the screen,
that you watch from the couch with no sound
’cause Pops is trying to sleep on a Sunday afternoon.
He’s been working at night, so quiet you keep,
because the lights turn on, and your little mouth feeds
on the food from the cans in the cupboard
that Dad provided off the salary from a job that he hates.
It’s been aging him fast.
Hear him crying when he’s asking God to save the children
that he’s trying to raise.
Just get ’em out the trailer park,
into a house with a yard.
That’s all that he wants.
So I am wishing for a money tree
so you can get some groceries.
With an anthem for a broken home,
I am praying for you.