I swear the words are on the tip of my tongue, but my mouth won't open up, let them out, open up until I've shunned everyone well equipped with a gun aimed to shoot me up, well about, solely for my lack of doubt. I'm holding all I own inside a bag around my shoulder, living life by "son you'll understand the world when you get older" counting every step I take as I am swept up from the floor of acceptance into my own front door.
Oh delinquent, delinquent tell me the truth. You're torturing the innocent as payback for your troubled youth. I plead the fifth, no I won't say a word. I'd never subdue myself to all that you have heard, no.
The words are on the tip of my tongue, but the cat got it along with all but a lung so I'm just a breathing nothing sent from above so that all man kind will know to never chase love drawn depictions of life long decisions, seek light through incisions, or trust observations, rely on relationships. Until my ship sinks in open water, I'll never forget what they did to my daughter.
Oh delinquent, delinquent tell me it's true. You're punishing the innocent for what the guilty did to you. Oh delinquent tell me the truth. Delinquent, delinquent... YOU HAVE NO DANG PROOF!
She was a lamb in the hands of a shepherd, and I had a chance in the hands of a leper. No, she was a plan in the hands of a failure, and I am the failure. I failed her. I failed.