Because our generation needs a voice

Tell them (why we did it)

A baby cries

The tenth time that morning                                                                                                       

Inspired by the music of the rumbling in her tummy

Her soprano cuts through the air

Riding on waves of heat and despair

For you see, there is no hope here

So she cries

On and on till the mother can take no more

See, her weary breasts are dry and sore

She’s a victim of life and patron of death

So today she pays another debt

Splash

There will be no more crying

And no more laughter

Not in the house of the grieving father

Whose sons will never return

Cursed be the day they were born

Or the day they were torn

From his weak and failing arms

Who will tend his dying farm?

Or carry on his name

Or carry on his name

God, who is he to blame?

So there will be no more laughter

But the clap of a dane gun’s thunder

And the shrieks of a grieving mother

The inferno of consuming anger

Death is our desire

So we share

Generously

Our pain

Religiously

Our gain

The cemetery

Our life

Tragedy

So should the police knock down your door

Asking why we raised the roof and burned the floor

Demanding you give an explanation, or…

Tell them why we did it.

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