He'd trade his guns for love
But he's caught in the crossfire.
And he keeps wakin' up
But it's not to the sound of birds
The tyranny
The violent streets
Deprived
Of all that we're blessed with.
And we can't get enough, no.
Heaven if you sent us down
So we could build a playground.
For the sinners
To play as saints.
You'd be so proud of what we made.
I hope you got some beds around
Cause' you're the only refuge now.
For every mother,
Every child,
Every brother
That's caught in the crossfire.
That's caught in the crossfire.
I'd Trade my luck to know
Why he's caught in the crossfire.
And I'm here wakin' up
To the sun and the sound of birds.
Society's anxiety.
Deprived
Of all that we're blessed with.
We just can't get enough, no.
Heaven if you sent us down
So we could build a playground.
For the sinners
To play as saints.
You'd be so proud of what we made.
I hope you got some beds around
Cause' you're the only refuge now.
For every mother,
Every child,
Every brother
That's caught in the crossfire.
That's caught in the crossfire.
Can I trust what I'm given
When faith still needs a gun,
Whose ammunition
Justifies the wrong?
And I can't see
From the backseat
So I'm asking from above:
Can I trust what I'm given
Even when it cuts?
So heaven if you sent us down
So we could build a playground.
For the sinners
To play as saints.
You'd be so proud of what we made.
I hope you got some beds around
Cause' you're the only refuge now.
For every mother,
Every child,
Every brother
That's caught in the crossfire.
That's caught in the crossfire.
Who's caught in the crossfire.
Who's caught on the cross--.
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
