Mommy's grace
in daddy's face
in the eyes of foreign green
I could see
it wasn't mean.

Tender voices turned to stone,
breaking nerves and breaking bone.
Tender voices to me say
it isn't bad,
it's nature's way.

I didn't knwo if mommy cried,
if each time something in her died.
After every stroke of violence
we embraced the night,
we embraced the silence.