It mostly doesn’t make the news. In fact, you have to listen to particular channels on TV and radio to even catch a line or two of this dreadful message. It’s dark. Too dark for prime time. But there’s a killing spree going on right here in America (and around the world), and the vast majority of human beings couldn’t care less.
If someone could manage to kill over 1000 people a day, don’t you think they’d be front page news? They’d be top story on every TV news channel. Their face would be plastered on every media around the world. And rightfully so. But…
…that sort of killing spree is taking place every day here in America. And only odd people like me seem to be interested in telling the story.
And let me tell you…I Hate, with a capital “H”, telling this story. It exposes the awful truth about my country. I love America. But America has gone the way of every other powerful nation or empire in history. We’re no longer the bright, shining “city upon a hill.”
I wrote a song about this back in 2002. It’s not an upbeat song. It’s not an anthem. It’s not a song that’ll ever get any “airplay” or streaming time. But I wanted to write a song about this dark side of our culture in a way that maybe gave the story some humanity. You can let me know if you think it does that.
Wouldn’t it be awesome to end this killing spree?
Killin’ Spree
Way down along the river,
Beneath a willow tree,
An awful sight in the damp twilight,
They found the boy named Lee.
His mother can’t believe it.
His father can’t be found.
There’s his battered face, and his dying place
On that muddy Georgia ground.
Been forty years in this killin’ spree…
It’ll lead to ruin…the undoin’ of you and me.
If it weren’t for Jesus, Grace, and Mercy,
We’d all be found guilty…in this killin’ spree!
Inside a broken promise
There lives a shattered dream.
A young girl stands with cradled hands.
Her tears become a stream.
With no one there beside her
She walks in through the door.
She cannot smile or reconcile
Why her heart can feel no more.
chorus
Where we gonna go?
What we gonna do?
And who can we depend on?
Can you tell me who?
Random thoughts and deeds…
And random source of life…
Random is the bride we take
Who becomes a cheating wife.
© Copyright 2002 Tony Funderburk
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