Junkyard

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 breast plate made of metal
She drives all day in a rusty Buick and her feet don't reach the pedals
Got a jar of flies, a fathers 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! "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

Well, I should've been sleepin', should've 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 die alone you'll see, 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