Lyrics:

Hill-Hillman

There's a silence growing before the comin' storm
We're all around us alive or tattered and torn
Stripped of spirit and stripped of pride
Led to believe in the golden light
A broken home is like a smokin' gun
When the battles over the unfortunate ones
Pick up the pieces with no guarantees
That they won't be love's refugees
Blame it on the father, blame it on the mother
They just don't know how to talk to each other
Like a river rollin' to the open sea
Will all the children ever come to believe
Or are the children love's refugees

SOLO

On the ship of fools there's a golden ring
In the land of the blind the one-eyed man is king
Like Jezebel and old Ahab
The more you want the less you have
Blame it on the father, blame it on the mother
They just don't know how to talk to each other
Like a river rollin' to the open sea
Will all the children ever come to believe
Or are the children love's refugees
Like a river rollin' to the open sea
Will all the children ever be set free
Or are the children love's refugees