Peter the Wild Boy

How many lives does it take To ruin a single one? I once learned of a boy He couldn't sing at all Yet he knew every note of my song Found one day they called him 'The Wild Boy' he's a mess, he's a man What should we do with him? He saw a tree, called it Mom, and she called him, son Peter, what makes you sad? And how in the world did you Let it get this bad? I knew a person who read up On the likes of him He had no soul, he was young He was fitting in peter ate plants Grew a beard and lived with kings But, he couldn't understand a thing Peter, what makes you sad? And how in the world did you Let it get this bad? Peter, how do you know? Your eyebrows are the mountains And your dandruff is the snow The year that he died The United States dollar was born and now When I pay for my lunch I feel tree bark skin He's in my purse, in my ears He makes thoughts begin