As things start to surface and tears come on down,
The scars of a childhood in a small town.
The hurt she pushed inward is starting to show.
Now she'll do some talking, but he'll never know.
The tables have turned now, with a child of her own
But she's blind to the difference, what's taught is what's known.
Numbed by reaction, stripped of the trust,
A young heart is broken, not aware that it's just
A family tradition, the strength of this land,
Where what's right and wrong is the back of a hand.
Turns girls into women and a boy to a man.
The rights of the children have nowhere to stand.
The rights of the children have nowhere to stand.
The memories of children are written in stone
And some they get buried not to be shown.
Still they do linger, deep down inside
Like a seed that's been planted and won't be denied.
A family tradition, the strength of this land,
Where what's right and wrong is the back of a hand.
Turns girls into women and a boy to a man.
The rights of the children have nowhere to stand.
The rights of the children have nowhere to stand.