"Little People" as written by and Edward/turner Handley....
Envision a prison of age
Where the apparent disposition is out of apparent commission to live in a cage
To its a appearance where decisions are made
To not listen, and they got their fist in opposition to fair play
Must be in your solicitation of rage
You became a victim the same way
The system that gave way
Inflictin' the same pain
You convicted and can't blame
Recondition your brain till you convinced you can't change
Understand and be wishin'
Family tradition won't end you in a position where you feel in the rein
Lonely without a home, cause now your child's grown8
Wearin' a milestone like it's the only tie you own
Cryin' when you're alone
Hopin' that god forgives you
Wonderin' if you get too
No one should have to live through
The violence that you been through
The fight that's still within you
Its time to make things right and free the child that lives in you

Hear me
See me
Do you even know I'm still breathing?
I listen to the sounds of the tv
The only thing that really wants to reach me
Daddy listen
Mommy please
There must be a better way to raise me
I yell until my ears can't hear me
Into a silence that kills me

There Billy stands at twenty below
Grippin' his coat that froze two hours ago
Dramatic I know, but oh,
7 year old's waitin'
Takes another look at a picture that lost time painted
Put it away
I can't look at it
The truth stings a little when you look at it
We creatin' a mold of bad habits
When the teacher got eleven year old's that blast at 'em
And the world tunes in just then
Listenin' to every word that he shoulda heard at age ten
That he wonders where it all began
He could call you a father
But couldn't really ever call you a friend
You work hard to provide a home for good livin'
And you figured that's all you really had to give em now
If you don't know much know this
All work no play
Far cry, no miss


It was once said that the grass with wither and the flowers will fall down
And every man must pass when his number gets called
But when a child takes his life that type of logic don't work out
A flower never told to pluck its own petals out
And throughout all the tears
It gets so clear
That the son I held dear
I lost somewhere
Between my work passion and a child's size casket
Its hard to grasp when these dreams keep flashin'
His cold foot hanging from a stainless steel table
And a white sheet stained with a mothers pain and grief
And every day I wipe the faces filling the pain
So another scape goat that's just filling the blame
What kind of man am I?
What kind of mother were you?
What kind of life did we subject a child too?
Wishin' I woulda listened
Could've probably seen whose prayin' for salvation that a soul could sure use


Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings, edited by nihilistgum

Little People song meanings
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