| My baby boy is in the army of disbelief.
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| My baby boy is in the army of midsummer grief.
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| Tossing and turning in his bed,
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| guessing his own end,
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| tossing and turning in his bed,
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| my baby boy’s already dead.
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| We are a natural disaster,
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| shake, mama, shake your head.
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| We are a natural disaster,
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| lost all hope to ever understand
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| the powers in command here.
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| Pray for my baby boy.
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| No bombs to drop and kill them all,
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| no money paid to charge our souls,
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| no mind control, no wall,
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| just summer, winter, spring and fall.
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| We are a natural disaster,
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| Shake, mama, shake your head.
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| We are a natural disaster,
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| lost all hope to ever understand
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| the powers in command here.
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| Pray for my baby boy. |