“Old Son”

See my old son

he’s moving away.

Wanted to chase

the blues away.

Always quite happy,

with food and some friends.

But never so lonely,

never had hate.

How?

How could he kill them all?

See my old son,

he’s holding his gun.

Pulling the trigger

he shot at the sun.

See my old love

he’s walking away.

Walking the green mile

while he said:

Why?

Why did I kill them all?

Why must the world now know;

to become a criminal,

mom had to see my go.

How?

How could you sit and see?

Kids slaughtered down by me.

If I could confess to God,

I’d make him protect my mom.

See my old mom

she’s crying away,

while the rope

suspends me mid-air.

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