Put Down Your Guns
Put down your guns, oh brothers, my friends,
The cycle of bloodshed, it must reach an end.
In the islands of blue where the sun’s golden light,
Has been swallowed by shadows that steal away night.
From Nassau’s streets to the shores of Freeport,
Cries echo in alleys where lives come up short.
The mothers are weeping, their hearts full of pain,
As bullets like rain drown their hopes once again.
Oh, how did we come to this crossroad of fear?
Where peace is a stranger, and violence draws near.
In a land once so tranquil, where the waves kissed the shore,
Now the gunfire replaces the soft ocean’s roar.
The Cost of the Gun
A child’s life cut short by a moment of rage,
An innocent soul trapped in a merciless cage.
The steel in your hand, so cold and so cruel,
Turns kings into criminals, and men into fools.
Your power, a myth, it fades with each shot—
For every life taken, your own soul is caught.
In a web of destruction, in a spiral of hate,
You trade away futures, you seal your own fate.
Brothers and Sisters, Hear Our Plea
Put down your guns, let love be your guide,
Don’t let anger and pride fuel the tide.
Look to the sky, to the stars that still gleam,
There’s a life you can lead beyond this dark dream.
The streets that are stained with the blood of our kin,
Could blossom with hope if we choose to begin.
To cherish each life, to honor our past,
To break from the violence, find peace at last.
Dreams Cut Short
Remember the laughter, remember the joy,
Of the little girl lost, of the young island boy.
Who had dreams in their hearts, and stars in their eyes,
Now only memories beneath the Bahamian skies.
The classrooms they left, the futures unseen,
The weddings, the children, the moments between.
For what was it worth, that last fiery flash,
When everything good was turned into ash?
The crime that consumes us, it lives in the night,
But hope still remains in the dawning of light.
If we rise from this darkness and put down our hate,
We’ll take back our islands, rewrite our fate.
A Call to Change
Put down your guns, this is our land to save,
From the anger, the sorrow, from the cold, early grave.
Let the sound of the conch shell fill up the air,
Let’s dance to its rhythm, let's show that we care.
For the tourists, the locals, the elders, the young,
Together we’ll chant with one powerful tongue:
No more shall we bury our children too soon,
No more shall our nights be haunted by doom.
A Future Reborn
Imagine a future where violence is gone,
Where the sun greets the day, and life carries on.
Where brothers embrace, where sisters hold tight,
And no one must fear the cold grip of the night.
Where the rhythm of Junkanoo fills every street,
And children can play without fear at their feet.
This is the Bahamas, this is our dream,
A land washed in sunlight, not in a blood stream.
Our Hearts United
Put down your guns, and with it the pain,
Let love flood the islands like warm, healing rain.
In unity, rise—Bahamians, stand tall!
Together we’ll answer our ancestors’ call.
The spirit of freedom, the essence of peace,
Lives deep in our hearts, waiting to be released.
No weapon, no bullet, no anger, no strife,
Can steal from our nation the promise of life.
So put down your guns, let the healing begin—
Let’s build a Bahamas where all of us win.
With hearts free of hatred, with hands free of blood,
We’ll reclaim our islands, rise up from the flood.
Put down your guns, a cry from the soul,
For in peace and in unity, we shall be made whole.
