It was a hot midsummer’s evening he was cycling home from school<br> Staying late to roller skate at the local swimming pool<br> Some boys stepped out in front of him and told him to dismount<br> Just another number in the teenage body count<br>  They stuck a blade into his chest and left him on the ground<br> Beside his upturned bicycle its wheel still spinning round<br> Lying in a pool of blood waiting to be found<br> And added to the numbers in the teenage body count<br>  His mama’s heart was broken, she couldn’t understand<br> Her son was well behaved and popular and not mixed up with gangs<br> At the crime scene there were football shirts and flowers on the ground<br> And the local papers adding up the teenage body count<br>  Oh what a world we’ve made for our children<br> A world to get killed in<br> A world without love<br>  When the killers were arrested they were too young to be named<br> A lack of father figures and strong role models was blamed<br> It was peer pressure and self defence that made them carry knives<br> And be locked up in a prison for the best years of their lives<br>  The funeral procession was led by a single horse<br> The crowd that lined the route broke into spontaneous applause<br> At the cemetery the Bishop read a sermon on the mount<br> And his sister sang a song about the teenage body count<br>  And she sang,<br>  Oh what a world we’ve made for our children<br> A world to get killed in<br> A world without love<br>