Monday, April 11, 2011

Stained.

Walk on, son. Walk on now.
So you can still lift your head tomorrow,
don't tarnish that fucked up name of yours.
Someone will kiss her shoulders like she used to wish
you would,
and he'll hold onto her, for dear life,
because he can see her for what she really is.
Walk on son, just walk on now.
There ain't nothing you can do
but thank her momma for that pretty face.

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