|
we all become |
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what we most dislike |
|
in this picket fence cartel |
|
tell? there's nothing left to tell |
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what have we become |
|
cycle all over again |
|
filled the shoes 'til i was ten |
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in front of the classroom |
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in front of my peers |
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that day will always be remembered |
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'cause it was etched in tears |
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daddy taught well |
|
at the end of his belt |
|
we all become |
|
what we most dislike |
|
the walk is too long and i'm tired |
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tell? there's nothing left to tell |
|
what will i become |
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when it's my turn again |
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will it hurt me more than it hurts them |
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scotch tape the volume of my mouth |
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withold the expression |
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that i wasn't allowed |
|
daddy taught well |
|
at the end of his belt |
