Shooting, stabbing, slapping, smacking
People dying, people crying
I wondered what I could do
I have not even a clue
It seems like the only time people care
Is when you’re not there
Like when you’re wounded in bed
Or six feet under
I can’t write about what I feel
Cause words can’t heal
Shooting, stabbing, slapping, smacking
People dying, people crying
I wondered would time heal all wombs
Good memories is what I had, although some were bad,
I’m not going to let that make me sad, or mad
I sat back in my lawn chair
And said a little prayer
God said be patient
Good things come to those who wait
I’m just hoping that it’s not too late