Poem by William Blake
Lyrics by Benatar

Predators
Everywhere
And found in children’s
Neighborhoods

They cry in the dark, so you can’t see their tears
They hide in the light, so you can’t see their fears
Forgive and forget, all the while
Love and pain become one and the same
In the eyes of a wounded child

When being forced to babysit
So, the alcoholic in the house
Can go to party with friends
Who have kids of their own
Opens the child in his own hearth
To a predator next door to the kids

Because hell, hell is for children
And you know that their little lives can become such a mess
Hell, hell is for children
And you shouldn’t have to pay for your love with your bones and your flesh

One who gives the attention
Not given at home
Between the workaholic mother
And the alcoholic man she is with

“There, doesn’t this feel good?
“You like this don’t you?”

“Hush little baby….”

Yet you must always babysit so he can party.
“There, doesn’t this feel good?
“You like this don’t you?”

“Hush little baby….”

When reported, no one believes
After all he is an Elder
He is going on a Mission
You’re just trying to get attention
Quit lying

It’s all so confusing, this brutal abusing
They blacken your eyes, and then ‘pologize
Be daddy’s good girl, and don’t tell mommy a thing
Be a good little boy, and you’ll get a new toy
Tell grandma you fell off the swing

“There, doesn’t this feel good?
“You like this don’t you?”

Honey, you need to go and babysit more.

Because hell, hell is for children
And you know that their little lives can become such a mess
Hell, hell is for children
And you shouldn’t have to pay for your love with your bones and your flesh
No, hell is for children

“Hush little baby….”

Yet later, when in his cups,
The alcoholic expresses
The wish to do the same to the child
“Hush little baby….”

Hell, hell is for hell
Hell is for hell
Hell is for children
Hell, hell is for hell
Hell is for hell
Hell is for children

And they wondered, those who did not know the alcoholic
Why the child, now grown-up
Cheered when she found out
He had died of his alcoholism
Alone, in a room filled with his best friends
The alcohol bottles…….
“Hush little baby….”

“O for a voice like thunder, and a tongue
To drown the throat of war! When the senses
Are shaken, and the soul is driven to madness,
Who can stand? When the souls of the oppressèd
Fight in the troubled air that rages, who can stand?
When the whirlwind of fury comes from the
Throne of God, when the frowns of his countenance
Drive the nations together, who can stand?
When Sin claps his broad wings over the battle,
And sails rejoicing in the flood of Death;
When souls are torn to everlasting fire,
And fiends of Hell rejoice upon the slain,
O who can stand? O who hath causèd this?
O who can answer at the throne of God?
The Kings and Nobles of the Land have done it!
Hear it not, Heaven, thy Ministers have done it!“

Hell, hell is for hell
Hell is for hell
Hell is for children
Hell is for children
Hell is for children

Fin
4/28/2026