| Alone, listless. Breakfast table in an otherwise empty room. | |
| Young girl, violence. Center of her own attention, no, no. | |
| Mother reads aloud, child tries to understand it. | |
| Tries to make her proud. Yeah. | |
| The shades go down into her head. | |
| Painted room. Can't deny there's something wrong. | |
| Don't call me daughter. Not fit to. | |
| The picture kept will remind me. | |
| Don't call me daughter. Not fit to. | |
| The picture kept will remind me. | |
| Don't call me... | |
| She holds the hand that holds her down. | |
| She will rise above. Ooh... Woh. | |
| Don't call me daughter. Not fit to. | |
| The picture kept will remind me. | |
| Don't call me daughter. Not fit to be. | |
| The picture kept will remind me. | |
| Don't call me daughter. Not fit to. | |
| The picture kept will remind me. | |
| Don't call me daughter. Not fit to. | |
| The picture kept will remind me. | |
| Don't call me... | |
| The shades go down. (x4) | |
| Woh... | |
| I see a girl of the night with a baby in her hand. | |
| Under an old street light. Oh, next to a garbage can. | |
| Now she's put her kid away. She's going to get a hit. | |
| She hates her life and what she's done with it. | |
| That's one more kid that will never go to school, never get to fall in love, never get to be cool. | |
| That's one more kid that will never go to school, never get to fall in love, never get to be cool. Oh... | |
| He won the lotery when he was born. Yeah. | |
| A big hand slaped the white male american. | |
| Do no wrong. So clean cut. Dirty his hands it comes right off. | |
| Police man. (x2) | |
| Ooohhh... |
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