It's late. I am wasted and wounded. I'm worn out.
Sitting down in my big old chair. I got a long neck in the right. The remote in the left.
Time for my favorite show. The Tuesday documentary. So I turn the TV on.
Yeah. I start my day with a drink.


And I see a little girl sleeping alone. She's got a blood-stained blanket made of stone.
Her mother doesn't know. She's not yet sad.
Just getting the dinner ready. When the cops tells her her daughter's
dead.
Just a baby child. Just a baby child.
Now man send a dog around the universe. A few good men to the moon.
How come we can't send a little girl home, safe in the afternoon?
I am drinking my beer, I had some beef to eat.
And the taste in my mouth is the overwhelmingly taste of total defeat.
Just a baby child, just a baby child.
I am drinking my beer, I had some beef to eat.
Having fun and charming all, winning, losing, going for the gold.
There is a soldier man, he's up the hill, for to take revenge upon some joker.
His grenade, it hits the wrong side of the road.
True.
Just a baby child, just a baby child.
Just a baby child, just a baby child.
Just a baby child, just a baby child.