So the boy was rocked in loving arms,
And heard the Lullabies.
But was never told--
All that was bought with other young boy’s lives.

The boyish suits, the butterflies
And nothing was gray or grim.
All a gift from other men
Who gave their all for him.

It would be nice if all his life,
The boy would face no harms.
But like all of life, Freedom's costs
Are not paid by loving arms.

For the day will surely come,
As it came for you and me,
When The Boy-Who-Was, must protect,
The Boy-Who's-Yet-To-Be.