“It was not our children, it was our sons.”
Another mother hears a song about her son taking full responsibility:
I am the crisis
I am the bitter end
I'm gonna gun this town
I am divided
I am the razor edge
there is no easy now
son of sorrow
staring down forever
with an aching view
disenchanted
lets go down together
with the fatal wound
this is the real thing
no rubber bullets now
this is the final bow
my breath avoids me
my chest is in my head
my stomach's upside down
down
son of sorrow
staring down forever
with an aching view
disenchanted
lets go down together
with the fatal wound
with the fatal wound
with the fatal wound
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