The message was sent The task was done Prayers offered up in the night Faced the light of the burning Sun My brother was dead By his own hand A gun in the glove box 'Cause he carried money For the old man They say he gambled Friday's payroll Found him in his car In a cornfield Twenty one years old He wanted to own His own clothing store Dressed like sam cooke With the catholic girls In his Fair lane Ford Doing his job Doing his best Selling burnt orange And avocado green kitchens All across the midwest The favored one Me and my brothers all knew My mother loved him more Than she knew What to do The message was sent The truth to tell The officer tried to catch her As she wept and fell My father screamed no And beat on the wall Shook the foundations of the house Shook the life out of us all The priest came by Undeterred There to explain The unexplainable With God's word The message was sent A family gone The death of a golden child And nothing left To carry on The message was sent The task was done Prayers offered up in the night Faced the light of the burning Sun