|One day when I was walking,
I passed a boy near me,
He was all bruuised and beaten
From his head down to his knees.
His face showed no emotion,
The shirt he wore was torn.
He walked like he was nothing,
He wished he'd never been born.
But still I walked with steady strides,
Along my merry track.
If I had of known at that time,
I'd probably would of raced back.
Still, by the time I reached my home,
Turned around and closed the gate.
I watched the news and saw the boy,
No, it was too late.
The boy had held a gun up high,
A gun raised above his head.
The sweet boy is gone forever more,
Yes, the boy is dead.
This is such a sad one