Mama said that children rise to the expectations of the teacher.
So, when I got a job working with children, I was sort of a preacher.
Trying to uplift souls that had stumbled on the path of misfortune.
Their tempers were hot as coals from a heart that had long been tortured.
It was hard getting close 'cause the wall that Floyd spoke of was still in place.
Not a few but most had been through the system, somewhere we missed 'em and what's here is just a trace...
Of a child who would freely trust 'cause survive they must and who to help them but us.
Tied in our own problems we fail to solve them, and our children evolve them.
The shadow of us they become, but from us they run only to return in spirit.
I tell them to check the past to present a path.  More than a few must hear it.
They talk about the gap, the generation synapse, we must have the nerve to cross it.
They're the life after death that you seek. Don't sleep.  Not Z's or a deep freeze wlil foster it.
That is our respect, the end of the neglect of the emotional needs of a child.
Whether systematic or individualistic, don't try to twist it.  You know why they're runnin' wild.
A plant without water is malnourished, but one with it will flourish like the seeds it will one day bare.
If you reap  what you sow, make sure the thread will grow with the child, and give it room to tear.