| A young man came to a house of prayer
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| They did not ask what brought him there
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| He was not friend, he was not kin
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| But they opened the door and let him in
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| And for an hour the stranger stayed
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| He sat with them and seemed to pray
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| But then the young man drew a gun
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| And killed nine people, old and young
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| In Charleston in the month of June
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| The mourners gathered in a room
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| The President came to speak some words
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| And the cameras rolled and the nation heard
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| But no words could say what must be said
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| For all the living and the dead
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| So on that day and in that place
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| The President sang Amazing Grace
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| The President sang Amazing Grace
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| We argued where to place the blame
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| On one man’s hate or our nation’s shame
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| Some sickness of the mind or soul
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| And how the wounds might be made whole
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| But no words could say what must be said
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| For all the living and the dead
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| So on that day and in that place
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| The President sang Amazing Grace
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| My President sang Amazing Grace |