My baby's teething in the den
And I'm to give him what's mine
He wasn't meant to walk with men
(doctors brought him round again)
In his eyes there is a cure
To all the troubles in this home
It'll haunt my every bone
Force me through the great unknown
With a different name
In a different place
And a different way
Living different days
With a rifle to stay
A rifle to go
Find a fire to tend
And a martyr to mend
Find a body to bend
In a million ways
'til the thrill of a million
Has faded away
With the birth of a child
Comes the end of an age
Like turning a phrase
That erases a rage