Maybe the day that she met mama Her tiny fingers framed Her face, in light it was so flawless That she was a ghost Ok, it's fine to hold her ransom On her wedding day Deflowered, reviled and tossed aside It's useless anyway I find your son dead in the alley I find your friends decayed I see sour grapes on the table For all the guests to take I'll run back home in the old man's slippers And take the widest route So I can see the west And what animals I should shoot Okay, I beat the beanbag open The kids cried in their seats Parenting, it just seems to hopeless With the way they look at me I find your son dead in the alley I find your friends decayed I see sour grapes on the table For all the guests to take