My name is Sam and I live in a town 

that isn't much different than yours.

On a side of the tracks, not much to look at,

my friends and I still stay outdoors.

They call us the bombers, "a group of rough kids"

but we might have a different story.

Our parents are scabs, if not broke, drunk to shit

and my friend Tommy's pop beats for glory.

One night we was raging, drinking 5 and dime beer

and Mic  just decided to run.

We all simply followed, as we were likely to do

and we ran till we hit the sun.

We ran for hours, hooting and hollering as we went

stopping for each little row

But Mic kept on going like he saw some gold or something

so we charged and Joe screamed "Tally Ho!"

The guys turned a corner trying to keep up with Mic,

but Mic was there already smoking.

at the edge of a cliff, he stood kinda stiff

with the silhouette of some sort of  king.

It was as far as I'd gone out this small stupid town

and in that moment it just opened up.

I'll never forget it, the sun looked like candy,

and the crickets were louder than us.

Then Tommy yelled out like he'd seen something bad

and the four of us went running.

A man in suit with a gun in his hand

had finished the job early morning.

I swallowed so deep that a lump formed in my throat

and I asked them what we should do.

Gus said we should bury him as soon as we could

so the sun wouldn't burn up and stew.

Mic agreed and took the lead

started the walk down, away from the sky.

And as we surrounded, Tommy spit and grunted.

"we should  come up with a name for the guy"

 I suggested Zeke, 'cus i had just heard it 

in a comic book or something of the like

"it sounds heroic" but Mic shook his head

and said for the boy who never grows up "Pete, i think is right" 

We all agreed and dug with whatever we seen

an hour to get the hole just right.

and with the five of us lifting from all sides of the man

Pete's stiffness seemed damn near light. 

"For an Honorary Bomber, a man just like us,

we put you into the ground.

may you rest in peace, and may we never feel the need

to end it the way our man pete found."

Mic finished his words and we covered him up

with the ground that we'd dug by the tree

Gus made a cross with two twigs and some floss

and spiked it in the ground by his feet.

Joe took his knife and carved Pete in the twigs

and we strolled on out of that place.

Then Mic said "I'll race you" and with that off he went

and we followed behind with a steady pace.

We never talked about it again, 'cus there was no need

but we knew why he'd did what he'd done.

Truth is we'd all felt it, the feeling to end it.

But we had the Bombers, and Pete had his gun.