Mothers hands were lined with dirt From long days in the field And mothers hands are serving meals In a cafe on this street With mouths to feed Just trying to keep clothing on our backs And all I hear about is How it's so bad, it's so bad
You left without saying goodbye Although I'm sure you tried You call and ask from time to time To make sure we're alive But you weren't there Right when I'm needing you the most And now I dream about it How it's so bad, it's so bad
Father's hands are lined with guilt For tearing us apart Guess it turned out in the end Just look at where we are Made it up, still got clothing on our backs And now I scream about it How it's so bad, it's so bad