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what child is this? (narration) - trans-siberian orchestra lyrics

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[spoken word]
the old man stood there thinking
while staring in that old toy shop
with its carousel still turning round
in front of a music box clock
for what good’s a clock without a chime
a useless thing that just keeps time
recording moments that come and leave
but this clock’s chimes struck midnight upon a lost christmas eve
and when the final chime had spoken
and the twelth bell had finally rung
the indecision in the father was broken
he now knew what had to be done
so he got into a yellow cab
and prayed that it might lead through all this snow and streetlight glow
to a pass he might retrieve
when the taxi droppеd him off at the boarding house hotel
it was a rundown building
with a musty rundown smеll
and he asked for his son
from the hotel’s night desk clerk
who said his son was not there
he was not back from work
when the father said that was impossible the clerk replied
“i’m not here to debate
but he works at the hospital just down the block
if you want you can sit here and wait
but he never return ’til real late”
then the father tried asking another question
but the clerk went back to watching his tv
which was also playing how the grinch stole christmas
and the father mused, this movie has no sympathy
well at least not at least when it comes down to me
once outside he saw the hospital’s entrance
and went to the information by the front door
who confirmed that his son had a job there
and worked up on the seventeenth floor
so he took the elevator up to that floor
which was marked maternity
and the man knew in his heart that this was a mistake
for his son working here could not be
but the nurse on duty reconfirmed that he did
and since her rounds were about to begin
if he would like to follow her
she would gladly take the father to him
so he followed her to a large dark room
that to him seemed unusually empty
except for several incubators glowing on the right
each with a trembling baby
these infants were all extremely frail
and obviously in incredible pain
and this sight cut deep into that father’s soul
and he asked the nurse please to explain
“these children were born to mothers
who were addicted to crack cocaine
and these children are born in complete withdrawl
for that drug is still deep in their veins
we can give them no other drugs to ease their withdrawls
since they are born premature and quite frail
and any form of paink!ller could easily cause their small hearts to fail”
“and what does my son do here?” the father asked
“he is not a patient i assume”
the nurse did not say a single word
but nodded to the far left corner of the room
and there the father saw his son
who looked like himself when he was a younger man
rocking back and forth in a rocking chair
trembling infant held in his hands
and in his arms the child did not cry
but slept to silent lullabys
and his son rocked that newborn back and forth
until finally a dream was caught
but still at his rocking his son faithfully kept
’til that poor child’s trembling had also finally left
then the nurse whispered softly into the father’s ear
something that a blind man could see
but the father needed to hear
whispered to him in this room
filled with mankind’s misbegotten
something that the father had known once
but somehow had forgotten
she said, “it is this way with each of us
we all need to be held at least twice
once upon the day we are born
and once more when we leave this life
your son has been coming to this place
since as long as i’ve been working here
he’s never misssed a single day in nearly twenty years
he always arrives promptly on time
but a time card he does not keep
for he never leaves this maternity room
until every last child is asleep”
then the nurse noticed the father
trying to choke back the things he now felt
so mentioning she had to continue her rounds
she quietly excused herself
so he was now alone in the darkness
between the past and future caught
not knowing what to do as his mind flooded with so many thoughts
some beauty comes too early
while its moment never waits
and some beauty is always there
but never seen until it’s too late
look, there is a moment that has just slipped away
and so we lose our lives in such ordinary ways
where do we get our dreams from?
where do we get our faith?
is it something we are born with?
or is it something for which we must wait?
the mist of things we once believed
the childhood trues for which we grieved
and in our lives could we have missed those whom in the night
the angels kiss?

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