Sparks and flares
coming from a gun
Blowing away
some mother's son
Screech of tires
and the setting sun
Left to die
some mother's son
Lived by the sword
and barrel of his gun
What to do?
She cradled her son
weeping, oh she weeps
(do I weep? do you?)
Wisps of smoke
wafting from a gun
What was it?
Just some mother's son
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