Sunday morning, Birmingham, quiet in the church
Bombs were planted, House of God, children's blood on the cross
And your daughter, she was one, angel without wings
How could anyone forgive those who do such things
And when I sing Amazing Grace, your face is what I see
I hope someday that kind of grace will find its way through me
Tuesday afternoon...Jonesboro, fire alarm at school
Everyone goes rushing out into bloody pools
Thirteen and eleven years old, playing grown-up games
Mimicking what they’d been taught, now we’ll never be the same
Every year they’re younger now, drugs and knives and guns
Barely old enough to know the depth of what they’ve done
Taken off to juvenile hall, Sheriff shakes his head
A teacher tried to block the shots, gave her life instead
When I sing Amazing Grace her face is what I see
I hope some day that kind of grace will find it’s way through me
Wednesday evening, Wyoming, started in a bar
Ended on a wooden fence, dragged off in a car
Second Friday funeral, countless gathered round
Some were there to mourn the loss, others there to confound
Some were there to cry the tears born of grief and rage
Others carried signs that said "A Cure for Fags is Aids"
Matthew Shepard lost his life, his parents lost their son
Now he brings a cause to light, reluctant martyrdom
When I sing Amazing Grace his face is what I see
I hope some day some kind of grace will find it’s way through me
"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now I'm found
Was blind, but now I see"