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
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
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,
Deprives of all that we’re blessed with,
We just can't get enough
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,
Who’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,
Who’s caught in the crossfire
Who’s caught in the crossfire
Who’s caught in the crossfire
Who’s caught on the cross
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
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
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,
Deprives of all that we’re blessed with,
We just can't get enough
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,
Who’s caught in the crossfire
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,
Who’s caught in the crossfire
Who’s caught in the crossfire
Who’s caught in the crossfire
Who’s caught on the cross
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Comparing two lifestyles, why should he get to wake up to the sound of birds chirping and sunlight when the other person wakes up to war. Every mother and brother of that person, caught in the middle of the "crossfire" which could also mean just not having that person at home. .