They caught wind of the weak,
And tied him to a tree today,
Paul's father says they're pests,
Destined to just be strays,

They broke his little back,
With a little game they played,
And boys will be boys,
Isn't that what grown-ups say?

And I just stood there silent,
Rooted to the spot,
Marvelling how brave I'm not,
How brave I'm not,

Don't you see,
It's already too late for them?
Where are men of action,
Can't they do something?

The sun was growing faint,
And slipping from God's hand,
The day refused to wait,
And rushed to bury it's head in the sand,

If I could only get up,
Stand up for myself,
I have to join the Little Brutes,
Sadly I'm not bulletproof...