The Uvalde children haunt me
with their poignant, silent cry.
A nation’s lost its bearings
when it lets its children die.
The Uvalde children haunt me
with their poignant, silent cry.
A nation’s lost its bearings
when it lets its children die.
You might want to stick around –
to live for another day.
His right to kill is paramount
to the folks at the NRA.
Oh, well.
The children of Uvalde
are a mem’ry of the past.
We’ve all gone on to other things.
The outrage doesn’t last.
Kids across the nation practice up
their spelling skills, and
interrupt their lessons for
their Active Shooter drills.
Oh, well.
Uvalde’s just so yesterday.
We hardly can remember.
But, someone now is planning
for another in September.
Oh, well.
You’re not safe at a kid’s parade,
a school, or in a park.
You’re not safe where a
cold young man can kill you as a lark.
You’re not safe in a church or school
where young men with a gun
can kill you in a burst of blood
so they can have their fun.
You’re not safe when a young man
posts he wants to kill and kill,
and has a gun to do it with….
to kill you at his will.
You’re not safe where his right to kill
outranks your right to breath.
You’re not safe where raw politics
leads– once again– to death.
You’re not safe. Oh, well.
You
A lot of folks are buying a gun.
They’re locked and loaded….Ready for fun!
Don’t want to miss their chance, you see,
to kill the likes of you and me.
Now they’re killing baby girls.
Our children are expendable.
Don’t bother to ask the NRA:
their answers are dependable.
“We have our Rights!. Our Rights are All!.
We want our Rights, you see!
We want our Right to Carry Arms,
not Responsibility!”
Oh, well.
Three dead in Des Moines in a parking lot.
It’s a quiet little suburb.
But killing’s growing common –
barely raises even a hubbub.
Bodies lying on the street.
Blue strobe lights flashing bright.
Victims lay in seeping blood
as the lights cut through the night.
Oh, well..
Now the shooting’s at a Kroger store.
The bullets slice the aisles.
Shoppers lay in their own blood
amongst the grocery piles.
You’re standing in the check-out line
to pay and go…instead,
you’re laying in a pool of blood
among the hurt and dead.
Oh, well….