Tender young flower growed up in my garden, and I pray every day that your heart will not harden,
Cynic songs surrounding you on each and every street,
The altar, in the bar, in the face you will greet.

Don't lose your guns,
Don't lose your guns.

Gift of something so profound straining all these words,
Gift of something so astounding dying to be heard,
Bone of my bone, you are flesh of my flesh,
Blood of my blood, you are breath of my breath.

Don't lose your guns,
Don't lose your guns.

Oh,
Oh.

You are my pride, child...and, yes, you are my crown,
How to keep the darkness from dragging you down,
Feel the weight of what I am and what I am not yet,
Like to pass on something besides all these deficits.

Don't lose your guns,
Don't lose your guns,
Don't lose your guns.