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He'd trade his guns for love,
But he’s caught in the crossfire,
And he keeps wakin up,
But its not to the sound of birds,
The tyranny, the violent streets,
Deprived of all that we’re blessed with,
And we can’t get enough

Heaven if you sent us down,
So we could build a playground,
For the sinners, to play as saints,
You’d be so proud of what we made
I hope you got some beds around,
Cuz you’re the only refuge now,
For every mother, every child, every brother,
That’s caught in the Crossfire

I’d trade my luck to know,
Why he's caught in the crossfire,
And I’m here wakin' up,
To the sun and the sound of birds,
Society’s anxiety,
Deprives of all that we’re blessed with,
We just cant get enough

Heaven if you sent us down,
So we could build a playground,
For the sinners, to play as saints,
You’d be so proud of what we made
I hope you got some beds around,
Cuz you’re the only refuge now,
For every mother, every child, every brother,
That’s caught in the Crossfire

Can I trust what I’m given?
When faith still needs a gun,
Whose ammunition,
Justifies the wrong?
And I can’t see, from the backseat,
So I’m asking from above,
Can I trust what I’m given,
Even when it cuts?

So Heaven if you sent us down,
So we could build a playground,
For the sinners, to play as saints,
You’d be so proud of what we 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,
Who’s caught in the crossfire,
Who’s caught in the crossfire,
Who’s caught on the cross...

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