Thursday, April 30, 2009

The Family Jail

Words to a song I wrote years ago:

The Family Jail

Your mother picks your clothes,
your father picks your nose,
your sister picks your friends:
Family prison never ends.

So you say you turned eighteen,
and your best friend is a queen.
You wish he still was Ralph,
But how you'd like to find yourself.

Stronger personalities, they bury you alive,
where the air is thin and stale.
You've got to make a move in order to survive,
and escape from family jail.

Put a bullet through your head,
but they win if you are dead.
In life there's so much more,
if you just walk out the door.

Stronger personalities, they bury you alive,
where the air is thin and stale.
You've got to make a move in order to survive,
and escape from family jail.

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