Turn the channel! Turn it off!
Smash the picture tube
And pull the plug!
I don't want to watch this anymore
If I can't make it better

Soldiers stepping over him
Just to save their own skin
A place to run, a place to hide
While the blood pours from his side
And I can't make it better

Oh, the helpless ones
Truly helpless

Stop the film. Stop the bleeding
Pick him up. Brush away the sand
And take him to the Father
And place him in His hand

If I could do it all myself, you know I would
You know how hard I've tried
Still, the blood pours from his side
And I can't make it better

Clear the stage. Clear a pathway
Give him air. Give him time to heal
Let him sing his mournful song
As little ones will do
I remember every night sitting in the crowd
But oh, the theater's empty now
Still the scene plays on before me
Will someone tell me how?

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