歌词坐标
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He'd trade his guns to love
But He's caught in the crossfire
And he keeps wakin'up
But his not to the sound of birds
He tyranny of the violent streets
Depride of all that we're blessed with
And we can't get enough no
Heaven if sent us down
So we could build a playground
For the sinners to play as saints
You'd be so proud of what we've made
I hope you got some beds around
Cuz' you're the only refuge now
For every mother
Every child
Every brother
Who's caught in the crossfire
