Under The Gun

Under the city she rides the subway one last time
The sharks were out tonight, they made another strike
For a dollar and a dime
Up in the white room beneath the cool florescent lights
There is a plastic bag for the small and mute
Who come at inconvenient times

No more killing no more lies
No more hungry babies' cries
No more fear of man under the gun
No more marches no more wars
No more walls and prison bars
No more wrong for right under the sun

Along the Sudan the land is cruel and hard and dry
The air is filled with flies and the look of death
Stares out behind each eye
Back in Dachau, living skeletons in cells
Dante would recognize every room in here
An exclusive, private Hell

No more killing no more lies
No more hungry babies' cries
No more fear of man under the gun
No more marches no more wars
No more walls and prison bars
No more wrong for right under the sun