Each night I hope he'll pass me by
Walk by my door and never stop
My wish never comes true
He'll come into my room, my grand 'Ol Pop

He'll ask me questions about what I've learnt
I try to answer right, otherwise I'll surely hurt
Avoid his eyes and his wandering hands
And be sure to keep my replies soft and curt

He has me work all day, cleaning his home
It leaves no time for school, so I'm failing
I scrub the floors on my hands and knees
And he'll knock me down even farther if I sing

Sometimes he'll leave a bruise where they'll see
He threatens to kill me if I tell
So when they ask I don't tell the truth
I say I tripped and fell

One day my counselor asked if that was true
Later my dad freaked out and called me a punk
Drank his beer, touched me, stroked me, held me
Then said "I'm sorry" like he always does when he's drunk

Then when he falls asleep I sneak a few sips
It tastes horrible, but takes the edge off
The pain that is, then swirling thoughts
Of worthlessness that I try to doff

When he leaves he locks the door
Sometimes he'll come back at three
Wake me up with kisses and slimy fingers
And leaves me feeling small and dirty

I wonder if this is what all fathers do
Leave scars of their faith and love
And all I can hope for is that it's different
For our father above