as i lay on the ground, and silently prayed
for god's intervention, my soul to save
who the hell is the saint of lost causes?
i could see from their eyes, my time it wasn't long
reporters inquired why my vest wasn't on
my partner was crying for me to stay strong
the sirens seemed to grow quieter...

walk all the days just to stagger at night
a pension at twenty if all goes all right
to the junkies, the yuppies, ice-t, and the whores
i bid you a sl?n agus beannacht

it seemed like the shooter was barely fifteen
already his life had been stripped of all dreams
the crack and the gats make for one hectic scene
life never seemed any cheaper.
i'll always remember the words that he said
over and over they ring through my head
"go ahead shoot me, i'm already dead"
i see there's more than one victim...

on the day of the funeral, they all will be there
the tv, the papers, the bosses, the mayor
they'll tell all your family their grief is shared
next week you're going to be forgotten...
to my friends, i say, go on out for a drink
don't give a damn what the hypocrites think
belly up to the bar, give your glasses a clink
a toast to your fallen brother