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the coldest place I've ever been
was in my fathers house
many demons on the couch
eyes like glass still couldn't see out
of the past
still hearing bombs blasting
in Viet Nam it's hard to kick the habit
when she makes you feel so good
everybody is looking for some kind
of fix fixated on blood on children
who may have been a child of
one of them
brokenhearted by
America the beautiful
too many times had to
keep a heroin on the side
just to get by long enough to
sleep through night
on what was done
nobody really talks about
a product of silent cries
guilted wings don't fly
