i'm not from the ghetto but my dad's a tweaker

i knew something was wrong
when he didn't come home
and when he did he was stumbling,
carrying the garden gnome.

i used to look up to him
until he choked me
i used to like the way he spoke to me.

now all he does is hit me and scream.
bitch why don't you just leave!
i would if you let me.

he says these things and i know he don't mean it.
you think he's crazy but you should have seen the old him.
when i saw those pictures i thought i would cry.

when he was laying beside me,
my lover, the guy who lied to me.
he's turned around but i dont know who to believe.
all the fuck i want to do is grieve.

i'm not from the ghetto but my dad's a tweaker.
my mom is oblivious, you should see her.
she deserves so much better than a meth addicted bum.
fuck, the last thing i heard he doesnt give her none.

so i'll be crying when i write this song.
this lyrical pain,
i'll just fucking hit the bong.