The boy only wanting to give mother something,
And all of her roses had bloomed.
Looking at him as he came rushing in,
without knowing her roses were doomed.
All she could see were some thorns buried deep,
And tears that he cried as she tended his wounds.
And she knew it was love, it was what she could understand.
He was showing his love and that's how he hurt his hands.

He still remembers that night as a child, on his mothers knee.
She held him close and she opened her Bible, and quietly started to read.
Then seeing a picture of Jesus, he cried out:
"Mama he's got some scars like me!"
And he knew it was love, it was what he could understand.
He was showing his love, and that's how he hurt his hands.

Now the boy is grown and moved out on his own.
When Uncle Sam comes along.
A foreign affair, but our young men are there.
And luck had his number drawn.
It wasn't that long till our hero was gone,
he gave to a friend what he learned from the cross.
But they knew it was love, it one they could understand.
He was showing his love, and that's how he hurt his hands.
It was one they could understand.
He was showing his love, and that's how he hurt his hands.