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Spoken version
A recorded reading of “Little Soldiers”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
They gave me shoes from someone taller— the heels lift when I run, so I learn to place each foot where the borrowed leather will not speak. One, two, three. That is how the man at the door teaches us to become useful. One for the whistle, two for the boots, three for the name I keep behind my teeth. My mother put three crumbs inside the fold of my shirt. She called it courage. I heard the cupboard closing. At night I sleep beside the doorway, one hand on the floor, so I can feel the footsteps before they become a voice. They tell us the fight is a road but never show us where it ends. They tell us to stand in the cold and call the shivering discipline. I thought a man was someone fearless. Now I think he is someone who can carry a cup of water through a dark room without drinking it first. I do not want to be brave tonight. I want a plate that is not counted. A door that opens. A morning that arrives without asking my name. One, two, three— the numbers lose their order. The cold remains. The crumbs remain. Somewhere, beneath the shouting, the small animal of my breath is still alive enough to mend. I cup my hand around it. I do not say my name. Not yet.
Lyrics
One, two, three… (three… three…) My shoes were made for someone older My shirt still smelled of rain They pinned a number to my shoulder And told me not to say my name (name… name…) My mother packed the dark in silence Three crumbs beneath the fold She kissed my head and called it courage I heard: do as you’re told (told… told…) I thought the whistle meant tomorrow I thought the boots meant home I thought the man who gave the orders Would know where children go Little soldiers, do as you’re told (told… told…) One, two, three — who’s left to hold? (left to hold…) Little soldiers, stand in the cold One, two, three — I’m growing old (growing old…) I learned to sleep beside the doorway With one hand on the floor I learned the sound of empty cupboards And footsteps at the door (at the door…) They said the fight would make us useful They said the fight would make us free But every right they put before us Was something we had to bleed (had to bleed…) I thought a man was someone fearless I thought the strong don’t bend Now I know strength is keeping something Alive enough to mend (to mend…) Little soldiers, do as you’re told (told… told…) One, two, three — who’s left to hold? (left to hold…) Little soldiers, stand in the cold One, two, three — I’m growing old (growing old…) I don’t want to be brave tonight I want a room with light (room with light…) I want a plate that isn’t counted I want to sleep through the night (sleep through the night…) If I must fight for something Let it be small and true A piece of bread A door that opens A life that still belongs to you (belongs to you…) Little soldiers, do as you’re told (told… told…) One, two, three — who’s left to hold? Little soldiers, out of the cold One, two, three — we still have souls (we still have souls…) Little soldiers, out of the cold (out of the cold…) One, two, three — we still have souls One… Two… Three… (three…) I forgot what I was told.
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