We were raised on these songs
They run thru my head
Like a herd of wild horses
Thundering thru my veins
The very fabric of which I was formed
Sculpted by the beauty of my peaceful
Brothers and sisters
Whose hearts beat in the right places
Whose accared about the right way
The simple way truthful way
And then they shot them

One by one
Just after they took my Daddy
The hero of my life
They took the heroes
Of my world
Jack, Bobby, Martin, Malcolm, John
On my birthday they took John
Imprisoned Leonard, burned down the house
Of Trudell where his wife
Was peacefully asleep with their children

How do you live
After so many
Cuts to the heart
The tears we cried
The futility we felt
All of our dreams
Stabbed and mutilated
Tossed somewhere
under a bus
Leaving little hope
For the rest of us

Our youthful shimmer
Dwindled to a pale gray
And most of us
Just went home
Got jobs
And did all the things
We promised ourselves
We’d never
Ever
Ever…