The last breathes of nine drift through the halls
Past chapel doors stained by age
Their histories paint it's walls
Prayers still on the page
A young man raised on evil
Harboring prejudice and sin
Terrorized these innocent people
Only guilty of having dark skin
Milky eyed men try to comprehend
In a nation numbed by violence
The humorist puts down his pen
What's the point in trying
The wind blows through Charleston's trees
Carrying their voices across the land
Scattering crimson tinged leaves
Rustling an old, ruined flag
Now it fans the flames of horrid deeds
Churches burn under their weight
Ashes pile up on weeds
Choking out sunlight with hate
The President is singing hymnals
Hoping that He will listen
They were more than mere symbols
Right until we forget them
The last breathes of nine drift by and away