Little boy with pretty eyes
Watches t.v., never cries

Thinks it’s right to have a quarrel
Thinks it’s right to stop a fight
From the outside it’s all business
But you’d better look inside

There he’s standing
Don’t know what to do or say
All alone now
Not always been that way
And where (where is he running for)
An why (why did he shot that door)
Oh, he is so afraid to fall

Always on the run
It’s is age what they told him
Now you see him he’s shoutin’ for help
And he is a prisoner of fame

Little boy with pretty eyes
Watches t.v., never cries

Having problems growin’ up
Searches for answers but in vain
From the outside he’s so cool
But what goes on inside his brain

Now he’s laughin’
Standing there his feet won’t move
And look he turns around now
And just ignores what they say

And where (where is he running for)
An why (why did he shot that door)
Oh, he is so afraid to fall

Always on the run
It’s is age what they told him
Now you see him he’s shoutin’ for help
And he is a prisoner of fame

Everytime he thinks he’s odd
Then you see him, no he’s not

Those secret feelings…
Going on and on and on…..