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I can barely make out |
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The light from the house on the cul-de-sac, |
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Bedroom upstairs. |
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It's a family affair. |
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I've watched you in class, |
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Your eyes are cut glass, |
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And you stay covered up, |
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Head to your toe, |
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So nobody will know |
|
's you. |
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And I might not be |
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A man yet. |
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That bastard will never be. |
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So I'm cleaning |
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My Weatherby |
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And I sight in my scope. |
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I hope against hope, |
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I hope against hope. |
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nuh nuh, nuh-nuh hun-nuh-nuh |
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nuh nuh, nuh-nuh hun-nuh-nuh |
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Your Mother seems nice |
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I don't understand why |
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She won't say anything. |
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Cause if she can't see, |
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Who he turned out to be. |
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I might not be |
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A man yet. |
|
Your Father will never be. |
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So I load up my Weatherby, |
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And I let out my breath |
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And I couple with Death, |
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I couple with Death |
|
Saw your Father last night |
|
in the window the light |
|
made a silhouette. |
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Saw him hold you that way. |
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He won't hold you that way |
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Anymore.. Yvette. |
