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