When I turned the age of eighteen,
My face, my father didn't want to be seen.
Se he began his own personal hate parade.
Starting resentments in the life he made.
The words he said cut to the bone
but the truth, couldn't ever be shown.
A rage he held all while I'd grown.
He wanted to hurt me oh so bad
and all the lies just left me sad.
Calling me a liar and a cheat.
He made hating me, clean and neat.
If I knew his feelings all along
I would be gone, never singing this song.
When I left him for the Keys
he wanted to break my knee's,
I hate the lies he says to me.
When I speak up, he refuses to see.
A nail drove deep to cause a lingering pain
but it will all just happen all over again
Jesus was the supposed son of god
yet, he was crucified with a grim nod.
What am I worth to the blood of him
and am I just a soul to hang from a limb?
What stops the pain from a child forgotten?
What's stops the world from being so rotten?
What stops me from wanting to cry?
Why can he make me want to die?
I mean I love him, but not like this.
When he treats and thinks of me like piss
Calling me names that make me sigh
while my soul drops and inside I die.
Drugs provide a pillow for the fall
their the lies, he says, I crawl.
No matter what I do, I want out
from his mental abuse with a shout.
Scramble my brains with a slug
and forget all the above.

06/17/2000

Posted on 12/16/2003
Copyright © 2025 Aaron Howard