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