We live in a country that counts painkillers like confessions and tracks prescriptions like parole violations—while AR-15s move table to table at weekend gun shows, no questions, no receipts. A woman’s medicine cabinet draws more scrutiny than a man’s basement arsenal. Lawmakers draft laws for embryos while children bleed out on school floors.
Forty thousand gun deaths hum beneath headlines like static. One flimsy study on Tylenol?
Crusade.
We track ovaries like GPS beacons while bullets vanish without a trace.
Chronic pain patients live under surveillance.
The next mass shooting? The five-day forecast—tragic, predictable, nothing to be done.
This song erupted from the math we choke down daily.
From watching power protect itself while the dying pile up in silence.
From rage that burns and burns.
Because this is about control—who lives free, and who disappears.
[Verse 1]
They say her pain pills kill, not the AR-15 They count each dose she takes like it’s a crime scene One sketchy study, now they’re screaming for her head Forty thousand shot this year — but that’s not what they dread They’ll protect you whether you like it or not, they say Kids die in classrooms, they just bow their heads and pray
[Refrain]
It’s never the bullets, it’s fear they’ve fed It’s never the bullets — not what they dread
[Verse 2]
She takes one pill for pain to make it through her day He buys a wall of rifles — that’s the American way They track her every doctor, chain her to prescriptions He loads another magazine without restrictions Kill her for abortion to protect what’s not yet born But kids with bullet holes? That’s just how we mourn
[Refrain x2]
It’s never the bullets, it’s fear they’ve fed It’s never the bullets — not what they dread It’s never the bullets, it’s fear they’ve fed It’s never the bullets — not what they dread
[Bridge]
A mother saves her last text: “I love you, stay low” While Congress writes more laws on someone else’s embryo
[Verse 3]
The Tylenol debate? A shadow, paper-thin Gun stats spell it out — the coffins keep rolling in They watch her medicine cabinet like she’s dealing drugs Gun shows sell to anyone — they just smile and shrug Tylenol’s the killer, that’s the story that they sell The NRA writes checks and Congress signs the decree
[Call & Response]
Singer:They’ll blame the meds, they’ll blame the dead… Crowd:Never the guns, never the guns! All:Never the guns, never the guns!
[Outro]
Never about protecting anyone Just controlling bodies while the shootings run (whispers: never the guns, never the guns…)
hillpoet56
Gene Scott grew up on an Illinois tenant farm where kitchen-table tales mixed magic with hog farms and strip mines. After 40 years in East Tennessee, he’s witnessed nature’s raw power—and its quiet grace to heal what’s broken.
Never the Guns!
A Protest Song for the American Contradiction
We live in a country that counts painkillers like confessions and tracks prescriptions like parole violations—while AR-15s move table to table at weekend gun shows, no questions, no receipts. A woman’s medicine cabinet draws more scrutiny than a man’s basement arsenal. Lawmakers draft laws for embryos while children bleed out on school floors.
Forty thousand gun deaths hum beneath headlines like static. One flimsy study on Tylenol?
Crusade.
We track ovaries like GPS beacons while bullets vanish without a trace.
Chronic pain patients live under surveillance.
The next mass shooting? The five-day forecast—tragic, predictable, nothing to be done.
This song erupted from the math we choke down daily.
From watching power protect itself while the dying pile up in silence.
From rage that burns and burns.
Because this is about control—who lives free, and who disappears.
[Verse 1]
They say her pain pills kill, not the AR-15
They count each dose she takes like it’s a crime scene
One sketchy study, now they’re screaming for her head
Forty thousand shot this year — but that’s not what they dread
They’ll protect you whether you like it or not, they say
Kids die in classrooms, they just bow their heads and pray
[Refrain]
It’s never the bullets, it’s fear they’ve fed
It’s never the bullets — not what they dread
[Verse 2]
She takes one pill for pain to make it through her day
He buys a wall of rifles — that’s the American way
They track her every doctor, chain her to prescriptions
He loads another magazine without restrictions
Kill her for abortion to protect what’s not yet born
But kids with bullet holes? That’s just how we mourn
[Refrain x2]
It’s never the bullets, it’s fear they’ve fed
It’s never the bullets — not what they dread
It’s never the bullets, it’s fear they’ve fed
It’s never the bullets — not what they dread
[Bridge]
A mother saves her last text: “I love you, stay low”
While Congress writes more laws on someone else’s embryo
[Verse 3]
The Tylenol debate? A shadow, paper-thin
Gun stats spell it out — the coffins keep rolling in
They watch her medicine cabinet like she’s dealing drugs
Gun shows sell to anyone — they just smile and shrug
Tylenol’s the killer, that’s the story that they sell
The NRA writes checks and Congress signs the decree
[Call & Response]
Singer: They’ll blame the meds, they’ll blame the dead…
Crowd: Never the guns, never the guns!
All: Never the guns, never the guns!
[Outro]
Never about protecting anyone
Just controlling bodies while the shootings run
(whispers: never the guns, never the guns…)
hillpoet56