Wake Up America
by Mike Campbell 2004

I work in a factory making children's coffins,
Seems like I'm working more each day.
I take pride in my craft, polished and shined,
But feel so guilty when I spend my pay.

I read in the paper that young Jimmy was dead now,
Shot through the heart with a big Forty-Five.
His daddy had bought that gun for protection,
Now his little boy is no longer alive.

    Wake up America your children are dying,
    Wake up America there's blood on your hands,
    Guns are the reason for the killing and crying,
    Now's the time to get them all out of this land.

I watched in the rain when they buried his body,
Coffin was shining, brass and wood.
Tonight I'm gonna throw all my guns in the ocean,
But I wonder if it will do any good.

    Wake up America your children are dying,
    Wake up America there's blood on your hands,
    Guns are the reason for the killing and crying,
    Now's the time to pull your head out of the sand.