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's my reality He had a sick little girl

Dirty and hard

With a breast plate made of metal

She drives all day in her rusty Buick

Her feet don't reach the pedals

He got a jar of flies

His father's 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 Yeah!

Well I should have been sleeping

Should have 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 dies alone you'll see

And that's his reality

I'm not sick, I am lovely

Hatred is the curse of man And I will not feel unworthy

'Cause I have washed my hands you see

That's my reality, yeah