Michael couldn't understand,
why people shook him by the hand,
then laughed at him and talked behind his back.
Michael didn't know the rules,
Abused, confused at all the schools they sent him to - gave him the view to leave.
Michael's got a gun,
Now he's living on the hill.
Watch the people run,
shooting down the kids at play,
He'll teach them all to stay away.
Mothers screaming, running round
No-one laughs at Michael now!
Out the cla**room window stood a hill which made him feel so good,
He thought he'd like to have it as a home.
People never spoke to him,
Ignored, deplored, he got so bored,
He ran away and bought himself a gun.
Michael's got a gun...
Michael lay down in the sun,
Perhaps he'd put away the gun if only they would leave him quite alone.
No-one heard his point of view,
The crowd of vigilantes grew,
so Michael used the gun just one last time...
Michael's got a gun,
Now he's buried on the hill...