In sticks down an old dirt road near a small Kentucky town
When his daddy would come home
Out past the old red barn in the sycamore tree
Here's where little Zack would go
And high above the guilt and pain
The only place that he was safe
Was high above, in the strong arms of a sycamore tree
You could hear a small voice in the wind
Saying please; don't let him do that to me
Praying to be born again
In the sycamore tree
Time went on as it always does and his daddy's time had come