The Foe No Longer Silent Sleeps

O! Emerson, how could you know
when you wrote the Concord Hymn
that shots would echo ’round the world,
shots fired by lesser men?

No bridge can arch the flood
that sweeps across our land,
No sea can hold the mothers’ tears
nor calm the fathers’ hands.

The bullet’s echo ricochets
through once thought hallowed halls.
O! God pray hear our plea
before even one more falls.

Please come into our hearts,
and come into our homes,
and teach us now to understand
the problem is our own.

The bullying, the hatred;
the shots ring out again.
Teach us Lord to teach respect
to bring this killing to an end.

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