Maybe the day that she met mama
Her tiny fingers framed
Her face, in light it was so flawless
That she was a ghost
Ok, it's fine to hold her ransom
On her wedding day
Deflowered, reviled and tossed aside
It's useless anyway
I find your son dead in the alley
I find your friends decayed
I see sour grapes on the table
For all the guests to take
I'll run back home in the old man's slippers
And take the widest route
So I can see the west
And what animals I should shoot
Okay, I beat the beanbag open
The kids cried in their seats
Parenting, it just seems to hopeless
With the way they look at me
I find your son dead in the alley
I find your friends decayed
I see sour grapes on the table
For all the guests to take
