What Kind of Person

Called on a Sunday to give me a play by play
Of the last five years and how I'd wasted his
He gave me no warning before he informed me
I was no longer necessary in the telling of his legacy

Hey, I'm just wondering what sick kind of person
Could rip your heart out and throw it in the street
Tear the music from your fingers, take your money and your friends
Sayin' your life's with the rest in the
Back of the alley inside the rubbish bin

He called up my daddy to tell him how badly
He believed I'd behaved, he ranted and he raved
To our neighbors, my uncle Joe, my friends and family he didn't know
Not one soul did remain outside his smear campaign, now

Hey, I'm just wondering what sick kind of person
Could rip your heart out and throw it in the street
Tear the music from your fingers, take your money and your friends
Your life's with the rest in the
Back of the alley inside the rubbish bin

Broke into my own house soon after he ended it all
Weakly hoping I could fix things, put the art back on the walls
When suddenly I knew why he'd nailed shut all the doors
When I walked up the stairs to my best friends clothes
All over our bedroom floor

Now I'm curious still, what fucked up individual
Could love you for so long then try to wreck your life
Rip the music from your fingers, take your money and your friends
Your life's with the rest in the
Back of the alley inside the rubbish bin