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