It’s a helicopter.
The issues are hands.
Listen to these.
It’s in the papers now:
how do we gather our children
and they’re all around us dead?

I see the faces now,
captured on camera
of a parent’s woe. 
A little first grader,
I gave him a bath in the sink.
He was so little.
My God he was adorable.
I washed him clean.
The towel had so much laughter on it,
and I held my little boy dry to sleep.

What a memory gun,
someone took it and cut me up with it.
Alex Jones bled conspiracy.
Oh they love their guns.
Gets children murdered,
and slaps us with their memory.
Is this right?

Oh I love you momma.
Close the door you silly thing,
and go to school.
I love you too falls on my lips
every time I turn around.
Did I tell you that my sweet little boy?
Good God it hurts.

The world was smashed in my mirror.
I don’t trust it now.
It’s got sinister eyes.
I pound my head against the wall.
I don’t know how to fight this.
I don’t know what to do.
The tears still come so easily.
Can you see me son?
Will you be with me again?

This is terrible live action.
We call it Sandy Hook.
It will never end.
That hook rends my heart,
but it’s made of sand and I cannot grasp it out.
Oh the meaning in names.
Have you ever looked at that?

Yes, yes there’s a conspiracy,
in the very ground of reality itself.
I don’t know what’s going on.
This is just too much for me.
They love their guns more than murdered children.
I don’t understand this game.
Can we get at reality,
and put it in front of our faces,
so we see what’s going on?

Does this all have to be about your rights?
Look, Sandy Hook happened.
I was there—
and this is humanity please;
my heart was shot that day.
Can you tell a parent in a room their child didn’t die,
and that room is their child’s,
and all the dead child’s things stare back at them,
and they feel like killing themselves?
Would you feel that?

I would like to show you something.
It’s a horror show.
The worst reality in the world
opened fire on our children,
a little bit of hell in the room.
Can you feel their fear,
their fright?
Can hear their cries,
their oh my God their screams?
Can you hold their hand?
That’s what we’re here for.
Can you?

I want you to be there
in your mind’s eye,
in your heart’s chamber,
when you salute our flag.
Oh I’m not asking this every time,
just enough to matter,
just enough for a better America,
where we’ll be safe again
from a defeated imagination
that sees a conspiracy behind every bush
that get us all to hate.

Oh special interests groups I’m sorry,
you’re just special interest groups.
Love America, you know?
And that’s not a flag,
a founding father,
this political party or that.
It’s not even a revolution.
It’s us you and me,
Americans.

You heard the Sandy Hook massacre.
Whatever.
At the flywheel
of another one's comin',
and everybody knows that for sure.
What can we do?

I can stick out hate
and identify the root of the problem,
the hate that's out there mixin' with everybody,
and who would believe me?
Who would even see its massive spread among us
in every room in humanity?

This is my business,
takin' your hatred and showin' it to yah.
You hate me more than serial killers.
In America no one is hated more.
Jesus Christ, the pedophile.
Now on earth hello.