A little boy of four years old
Is playing in the sand.

People are dying around him--but
He does not understand.

With the grains he builds a castle
Where his army men can stay.

In the real world a bomb just fell
And in trenches people lay.

The child's fragile hands
Have allowed the good guys to win.

The sad thing is in their world
Good doesn't always conquer sin.

When the little boy of four years old
Grows up to be a man

He'll lay in a trench with a real gun
But he still won't understand.