I hear about the unlucky seven,
Who were riding their Jeep in the war.
They drove on a bomb,
Four fresh out of prom,
The sight of blood, guts, and gore I ignore.
I hear about the father and son,
Who disappeared on their trip to the lake.
The reporter’s on screen,
With the cop on the scene,
But for them my heart fails to break.
I see a ship flipped in the sea,
Muck, oil, and ooze everywhere.
The captain’s in shock,
With his crew on the dock,
Yet I just sit on and continue to stare.
My mood starts to decline,
As I see the score of the game.
My favourite team,
Lost its championship dream!
Damn it –
That’s what I call a shame.