The same thing I did everyday, Came home from work, Made dinner for my son and I and then spoke about his day
A mother's always proud of her son, Stays with him, Not like his father who walked out on us
But everything changed when I saw the officer at my door His words killed me, When he told me you wouldn't be around anymore
I gripped at his feet, he looked at me "Your son is dead"
He won't be around anymore Death can be an honest thing, Makes you realise what you've lost and what you had
His body leaves my porch, I lay alone. "Why won't you stay with me?"
A broken mother, a murdered son
Monday the 4th: A day to remember.
Who would scar at his skin? Who would pierce at his flesh? You would take his life away Who would scar his skin Who would pierce his flesh Who would You would Who would scar his skin Who would mark his flesh