They each have a motive,
An axe to grind.
Brothers with their backs up,
Hate stacks up I find.

And the odds grow even
Worse in my eyes
When the grieving father
In the hearse grows deaf to the cries
Of the kids -

And their bids to halt this badness.
They were innocent once,
Free from the madness
That would blight their minds.

Fall to the floor
They all fall to the floor.
One bullet brings another
And they fall to the floor.

A gun puts power
In the hands of the weak.
A self-styled hero
With an evil streak
Who is ready to right
the wrongs in his head.
But just like the others
He’ll wind up dead.

But the gun lives on
And round the cycle goes.
But when will it stop?
I think every mother knows.

Fall to the floor
They all fall to the floor.
One bullet brings another
And they fall to the floor.
Pete Simpson - 21 Apr 10