| That young boy without a name I’d know his face. |
| In this city the kid’s my favorite. |
| I’ve seen him. |
| I see him every
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| day. |
| Seen him run outside looking for a place to hide from his
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| father, the kid half naked and said to myself «O, what’s the
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| matter here?"I'm tired of the excuses everbody uses, he’s their
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| kid I stay out of it, but who gave you the right to do this?
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| We live on Morgan Street; |
| just ten feet between and his
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| mother, I never see her, but her screams and cussing, I hear them
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| every day. |
| Threats like: «If you don’t mind I will beat on your
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| behind,""Slap you, slap you silly."made me say, «O, what’s the
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| matter here?"I'm tired of the excuses everybody uses, he’s your
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| kid, do as you see fit, but get this through that I don’t approve
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| of what you did to you own flesh and blood.
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| «If you don’t sit on this chair straight I’ll take this
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| belt from around my waist and don’t think that I won’t use it!»
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| Answer me and take your time, what could be the awful
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| crime he could do at such young an age? |
| If I’m the only witness
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| to your madness offer me some words to balance out what I see and
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| what I hear. |
| All these cold and rude things that you do I suppose
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| you do because he belongs to you and instead of love, the feel of warmth you’ve given him these cuts and sores won’t heal with time or age.
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| I want to say «What's the Matter here?"But I don’t dare say. |