Bobby Fred - (Corrected)

Alone,
Legs dangling off the edge,
It's little Bobby Fred,
Thoughts tearing through his head.

We wont let him touch us,
We wont even let him play,
Never thought we'd see the day when,
"Oh no, he's run away"

Everybodys in a panic,
Little Bobby Fred's gone manic,
Sitting on the edge of the bridge,
Point is he just don't want to live.

Legs flailing wildly as he falls,
Down,
Down,
Down.

As he hits the ground,
There is silence all around,
The thought we never let him play,
Because he was strange in a way.

No he was not strange,
Yet we did not see him,
In the right way,
Did not get him.

Bobby was a great boy they said,
As his parents wept,
Everyone was there,
Though we never used to care.

Some people didn't understand,
Why little Bobby did that,
Sometimes we want to cry,
Though they say its not our fault he died.

It is our fault that Bobby's dead,
That thoughts were rushing through his head,
Laughing, Jeering, Sniggering,
Telling him to go away.

So,
He,
Did.