The Sounds of The Guns

Run to the sounds of the guns,

my brother.

Run to the sounds of the guns.

They’re coming to take you down,

my brother.

Don’t let them take you down.

 

There’re fires burning

on the mountain side,

Mom and Dad

live in fear.

The bad men

have come to the farm

to take us all,

I hear.

 

There’s a storm brewing

out to the West,

and to the East,

there’s war.

Run to the sounds of the guns,

my brother.

I’ll get the nails for the door.

 

Remember when we

used to laugh out loud

at all those old men

telling tales,

about what would happen

if we let down our guard,

or if our will failed?

 

Well, I know

I’m not laughing, now.

I can hear them come

in the night.

Run to the sounds of the guns,

my brother.

It’s for us you will fight.

 

There’s blood on the ground

by the old barn door,

and I can’t find one of our sheep.

They’ve come for the flock,

but they’ll kill they shepherd.

Dark things stalk while we sleep.

 

When dawn comes,

I’ll say a prayer;

if we’re still here,

that is.

Run to the sounds of the guns,

my brother.

You’re the only hope there is.

 

Run to the sounds of the guns,

my brother.

Run to the sounds of the guns.

Don’t let them take us down,

my brother.

Don’t let them take us down.

 

HG – 2020