There’s a land you have not heard of
In any lullaby.
It’s not so very far away
And always out of sight.
I’m surprised that you don’t know it,
It’s filled with girls and boys.
It’s for children of all ages,
This Land of Broken Toys.
Here’s a little boy named Billy,
They say he’s not so smart.
Or is it that life’s cruelty
Taught him to hide his heart?
There’s a little girl named Susan,
A tiny little thing,
Who stares at you with quiet eyes
And wonders what you’ll bring.
Will it be feast or famine
And what will be her share?
Or will it be a heavy hand
That feeds to her despair?
If we could only mend these toys,
What course would our lives take?
If we could only save but one,
What difference would it make?
The only way to answer this
And then to understand,
Is to put ourselves in their place,
Where it all began.
Perhaps we might then come to see
Why they would make no noise,
And we might not then want to live
In a land of Broken Toys.