We think we're free when we can not see the chains
we think we're right but our children live our shame
we can not turn from the colliding trains
Everyone stops to watch the horizontal rain


Five years old, four blocks from home
he ends  up missing
thirteen he colors his hair
'cause his parents aren't listening
Fifteen and no one understands
he sits alone with a gun in his hand
this virus is feeding on the silence
with meticulous precision, he makes a decision
He's had enough of the lies
that hide behind smiling eyes
Palms are sweating, there's a lump in his throat
he shoves the gun up under his coat
Teacher says he hasn't heard a word she said
he jumps up, empties the chamber
shouting God is dead
Eighteen and army green
wakes to bombs bursting in the air
innocence lost while our leader counts the cost
the nights are luminated by the rockets red glare
toe tags, body bags, no one remembers his name
another son dies to young
no time from cradle to grave


we think we're free when we can not see the chains
we think we're right but our children live our shame
we can not turn from the crashing planes
everyone stops to watch the horizontal rain