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