Boom
Ba- pap!
The sound of an automatic rings through the silence
Little children know no niceness
As adults run the place
As they destroy their ace!
Boom
Ba- pap!
They rap with words that don't rhyme
Take up our children's time
With the slang of adults
That they propel with catapults
Boom
Ba- pap!
Yet here comes our angel
Calling out his little jangle
We clap his name thought the stands
As he marvels at our hands
Boom
Ba- pap!
But the adults grab him from the stage
Telling him that he's not the right age
And kill him right in front of us
So that they could deliver us
From his ways
But he has come to stay!
In our mind
In our mind
You have killed our savior
You have brought upon yourself a lynching mob
But no prob
We will not dirty our hands with you
