Those neighbor kids, they meant no harm. Came home from church to find a three-alarm. To my sister's, she gave us a key. Three years, one room, two kids and me. But he would lift my burden— All the power, the comfort In his name. Is that so much to ask— To believe and be unashamed? Stay after church, for friends of friends of Bill. I tell the story of my son, his need, the pain to kill. How I saved all the money, a box in a drawer. How I'd give it to him; knew what it was for. But he would lift my burden— All the power, the comfort In his name. Is that so much to ask To believe and be unashamed? The visits get harder. He lowers his eyes, and every time They get darker. I show him the pictures drawn by his kid. How do you learn you can smother someone with your love? Isn't loving at all in this world hard enough? Those neighbor kids, they meant no harm.