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I'll sing you a song that starts out descriptive and locates a time and a place like a dinner table where a whole famile is just sitting down to say grace. An old old song that mobes into action taking its sweet sweet time and waits until we all say amen again and again in rhyme.
It's the story of a father and a mother who battle each other over nothin' with a couple of kids trying to figure which way the plot's spinning, who's winning and who's bluffing.
It's a story as common as a penny, son it ain't really worth anything to anyone.
Poor little sore little song that aches like a muscle each time that it moves sad little song that you play and you play and you play and you play 'til you lose. While history is outside writing a recipe book for every earthly pain. This song is inside finger painting dark swirls again and again and they all look the same.
Cuz what if you come home from school one day and you find your whole family's at war and there's this ominous silence just waiting to be broken and there's secret places for hiding underneath the floorboards and everyone seems to be bracing for the subharmonic thunder of the next bomb and everyone seems to be waiting for the cops to bust in with their guns drawn at the bleak light of dawn.
It's a story as common as a penny, son. I don't think it's worth anything to anyone.