What will it take?
Must we all die, leaving no one?
Will the world be a giant crater before you see,
that despite your prayers, despite your promises,
a gun will not grant my little brother safety?
A gun won't stop the bombs from falling.
It won't keep the flailers from flailing.
And it sure as hell won't bring you peace of mind,
because that's not what you want.
I know druggies, and I can see the signs.
You're a bunch of addicts, you can't kick the bullet.
It's lodged in your brain, and damn it feels good.
Every shot is pure heroin.
There's more to say about this issue.
By God, I won't let this conversation cease.
I won't let your addiction kill my little brother.
I won't fucking let you take him too.
a very beleaguered Texan big-brother
I'll die first.
Needless to say, I'm not in a great mood.