The Lot

Here we are again
And I'm older now than they were then
I guess it's easy now to see
I understand
And that should make it go away
But it strains contact
In this family tree
Often all that I see is a small referee
From my earliest memories
Force me back; drag me over
And when I take the stand, I say
All present now is past
Then as now, we find
It's too late to stop
The betrayals underway
Or the legs of the boy
That were held as he walked away
A gun, a bat - tires slashed
A bleak vacant lot
An exchange with police
Pushing locks on the door
Turning wheels that I won't release
Fear it; hold it over me

Let it hang there
Like we're all back there
Back in the mire, unreconciled
Back when everyone was a child
Who can't understand
So let's throw a fit and disrupt the whole shit
And somehow think that it's fine
But it strains contact
Over and over it falls on my shoulders
And shatters and showers us all with the scourings now
My whole damn life
Gather the pieces and patterns
Just flatter the actor
Because some things still matter
No matter how old we get