Junkyard Songtext / Lyric

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 says, "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 harmed

With a breast plate made of metal

Drives all day in a rusty Buick, feet don't reach the

petals

Got a jar of flies, a fathers disguise, where his heart

should be, mouth is sown together

She screams with those eyes!

And he says, "She's as sick, as she is lovely and in

need of my hand"

He tells her, you are never worthy

She was all alone you see... That's her reality... yeah



Shoulda been sleepin, shoulda 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 junk yard man!

And I say, "he's as sick as he is lovely, and in need

of a hand"

And he will know he's not worthy

Cause he will die alone you see, that's his reality



I'm not sick, I am lovely, and hatred is the curse of

man!

And I will not feel unworthy

Cause I've washed my hands you see, that's my reality