Well they flash
Those half-knowing smiles
As they pass
Heroic profiles
Like they’re in some book by Ayn Rand
Always working, always tanned
So satisfied but the kids don’t understand
You kiss her
Don’t even love you
It’s a blur
She’s getting on top of you
Sometimes you see stuff nobody planned
Stick your head back in the sand
Oh, don’t worry cause the kids don’t understand
Stuck your hands in the wet cement
In the soft spot of my skull
Well it stings
Lick your wounds if I could
No such thing
As a normal childhood
Give ‘em paper, scissors and crayons
Give all those concerned a big hand
Maybe they deserve it, but the kids don’t understand
Stuck your hands in the wet cement
in the soft spot of my skull
We’re not dumb
Even if you spell it
We catch on
Don’t have to yell it
I see her flinch, when you raise your hand
There’s not too much that the kids don’t understand