Small Children (They do what they Act)

They build a city underneath the stairs,

With broken toys and imaginary prayers.

A wooden box becomes a rocket ship,

And every hallway is a sinking ship.

They speak in voices borrowed from the screen,

Become the heroes they have never been.

A villain falls, a kingdom starts anew,

Tomorrow brings another world to do.

But every game leaves something behind,

A little shadow in the growing mind.

What starts as fiction, what starts as play,

Can become the shape of another day.

Small children—they do what they act,

Every dream becomes a fact.

Round and round, the years roll by,

They learn to live the roles they try.

Small children—do what they act,

Nothing ever fades intact.

A little boy with a paper crown

Says, "I am king of this broken town."

A little girl with a wooden sword

Swears she'll never obey the lord.

They don't know the weight of names,

They don't understand our grown-up games.

They only know what they can see—

The world they make is what they believe.

(Tick... tick... tick...)

One step forward,

Two steps back,

Follow the footprints

Across the black.

"Who taught you how to be afraid?"

"Who showed you what a hero was?"

"Who told you what you couldn't become?"

Progressive Bridge

Seven doors beneath the floor,

Seven dreams behind each door.

Open one and time rewinds,

Open two and change your mind.

The child becomes the man someday,

But the child never fades away.

Buried underneath the years,

Still whispering through all our fears.

Quiet Breakdown

Remember the room,

Remember the light,

Remember believing

The stars were in sight.

Before you knew

What you couldn't do,

Before the world

Had spoken through you.

Final Chorus

Small children—they do what they act,

Every dream becomes a fact.

Every story, every scene,

Leaves a mark on what they'll mean.

Small children—do what they act,

Carry the future on their backs.

What we give them, what we show,

Becomes the seeds they learn to grow.

Final Verse

So let them build their cardboard skies,

Let them chase their painted lies.

Let them fall and let them fly,

Let them ask the reasons why.

For every child who plays today

Is learning how to find their way.

And when the final curtain falls,

Their little voices still remain within us all.

Play... pretend...

Become... remember...

Small children...

They do what they act.

And someday...

They'll teach us how to act.