Rollover

Stains on the sofa looks like fruit punch

Right, good hunch truth is, I seen blood

In my father’s eyes, then I saw red

 When my mother started to cry

That when my father had to die

No more tears from mothers eyes

Wipe the blood off the knife

Answer some questions, tell some lies

Oh, how he fell on the blade

That lay in the cushion of the couch

What scream? All I heard was an “OUCH”

The cut wasn’t deep enough he got back up

Lived to tell the tale about how he fell

On the steak knife that I   held, that night

He knew he dwelled in the pit of hell

Every time he looked into my burning eyes