I was a kid. I was a kid that stamped hands at the track. Stamped hands at the gate of the summer fair. Cold town, the summer fair.
Love. Hate. Two four letter words. Tattoo the knuckles of many that passed through the gate. One hand gave. One hand took away. Don't matter which. No movie tough guy shtick. No joke.
Mr. Schatz, my nieghbour, beat his kids with a knotted rope. One reason was as good as the next. One kid as bad as the next. It was the twins that took it hard. Randy was in prison at fourteen. Rhonda commited suicide.
Love. Hate. In black ink. Prison tattoos. A cross. A cross with bones. A cross with bones in rays of light. A cross with bones in rays of light, surrounded all sides by bolts of lightning. The initials. Not stylish. Not cool. Hard time. A real hard time.
A greater power, is it love or hate?
Love. Hate. Two four letter words. Tattoo the knuckles of many that passed through the gate. One hand gave. One hand took away. Don't matter which. No movie tough guy shtick. No joke.
Mr. Schatz, my nieghbour, beat his kids with a knotted rope. One reason was as good as the next. One kid as bad as the next. It was the twins that took it hard. Randy was in prison at fourteen. Rhonda commited suicide.
Love. Hate. In black ink. Prison tattoos. A cross. A cross with bones. A cross with bones in rays of light. A cross with bones in rays of light, surrounded all sides by bolts of lightning. The initials. Not stylish. Not cool. Hard time. A real hard time.
A greater power, is it love or hate?