Holding a drink in your hand
A fist in the other
Fearing which would be the first to hit my mother
Would you throw that bottle against her head?
Or would you beat her senseless? Almost leaving her dead
Praying to a God who refuses to listen
Begging that just for the night, he won't start to lose it
Thinking I am man enough to stand in the way
He pushes me with his arm far away
The punches begin to fly
All I can do is cower and cover my eyes
Feeling the guilt of letting my mother down
By not being man enough and holding my ground
I'm a coward, I'm a punk
Couldn't stand up for my mother when things were rough
But what could you expect from me?
I was simply a kid who believed this was all a bad dream