I have lived in a junkyard
Where the weeds eat up the rain
If you get anything there even out of place
You know there's hell to pay
And he said
"You're as sick as you are lovely
And in need of a hand"
He tells me, "You are never worthy"
But I was just a child, you see
That was my reality
He had a sick little girl
Dirty and hard
With a breastplate made of metal
She drives all day in her rusty Buick
And her feet don't reach the pedals
Got a jar of flies
Her father's disguise
Where his heart should be
Her mouth is sewn together
She screams with those eyes
(She screams with those eyes)
She screams with those eyes
And he says, "She's as sick as she is lovely
And in need of my hand"
(Yeah, he uses his hands)
He tells her, "You are never worthy"
She was all alone, you see
That was her reality
Yeah
Well I should have been sleeping
Should have been dreaming
But I wake up to broken glass
There'll be one more empty desk
In my homeroom class
I got an old bone pocket knife
Tight in my right hand
To save my poor mother
From the junkyard man
He's as sick as he is lovely
And in need of a hand
He will know he's not worthy
When he dies alone, you see
And that's his reality
I'm not sick, I am lovely
Hatred is the curse of man
I will not feel unworthy
'Cause I have washed my hands, you see
That's my reality, yeah
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