(Phil Coulter) See the child With the golden hair Yet eyes that snow the emptiness inside Do we know Can we understand just how he feels Or have we really tried
See him now As he stands alone And watches children play a children's game Simple child He looks almost like the others Yet they know he's not the same
Scorn not his simplicity But rather try to love him all the more Scorn not his simplicity Oh no
See him stare Not recognizing the kind face That only yesterday he loved The loving face Of a mother who can't understand what she's been guilty of
Scorn not his simplicity But rather try to love him all the more Scorn not his simplicity Oh no Oh no
Only he knows how to face the future hopefully Surrounded by despair He won't ask for your pity or your sympathy But surely you should care
Scorn not his simplicity But rather try to love him all the more Scorn not his simplicity Oh no Oh no Oh no
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