Mamas pack their lunches, kiddies back their guns
Wishing it will go away, but nothing’s getting done
A shot heard ’round the world, when a mother’s baby dies
We the people, point our fingers, blame and wonder why

Face it and fight or turn high tail and run
’Til it comes back again just like the rising sun
Say they do all they can, it’s just another lie
The answer’s plain to see, nobody wants to try

There’s no recess and no rules in the school of life
If you listen very closely you’ll see what it’s like
Have cool, will travel

Tell myself it ain’t true, they just cannot see
Grown up or sewn up, the medicine’s worse than the disease
I have cool, will travel
Here we go

Albüm: Cryptic Writings