Once upon a time they say,
kids went safely out to play.
They walked to stores safe everyday.
But now, some don't come home.
Beneath purple mountains majesty,
everyday, child tragedies.
The country suffers maladies,
and most just grieve alone.
No one locked their doors at night.
Now, we're boarded up too tight.
Scared of vigilante fights,
and another child has died.
Long ago and far away
dreams came true, but now won't stay.
Freedom has a price you pay.
The politicians lied.
So, put your rifles across your chests.
Hide your guns like all the rest,
but, don't ever think you did your best
to save us, or yourself.
We're not free, to live, but die.
Fathers worry, mothers cry.
In darkened homes they wonder why
their children...are on a shelf.
Washington is full of graft.
Politicians, unfair laws, craft.
All the way to banks they laugh,
they have so much to burn.
We wonder just how long we'll last.
We've gone back too far, too fast.
There is no future in the past.
But, some men never learn.
So, put your rifles on your chests.
Hide your guns like all the rest,
but, don't ever think you did your best
to save us, or yourself.
We're not free, to live, but die.
Fathers worry, mothers cry.
In darkened homes they wonder why
their children...are on a shelf.
~ Christopher Kalish
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