I never knew my mother
|
I can't say it was so bad
|
She was still a girl of seventeen the night she met my dad
|
He was just six months out of chino
|
Trying his hardest to stay clean
|
And they'd sing and they'd sing and they'd sing
|
Like doves sleeping with broken wings
|
In a bed fit for a king
|
It didn't mean a thing
|
|
It was shot gun forest wedding
|
And they forgot to bring the gun
|
As they were busy counting promises
|
To the children not yet born
|
No one could afford the ride
|
Everyone hitched up with the 101
|
|
And they'd sing and they'd sing and they'd sing
|
Like doves dancing with broken wings
|
With a view fit for a king
|
It didn't mean a thing
|
|
It was a loneliness
|
They would confess
|
Like the world had gone bad I guess
|
So they hold hands and look into the eyes of god
|
They'd say tell me why'd ya hide from us
|
Why'd ya fill the world with wickedness
|
Why'd ya spare us from the grace but not the rot
|
|
Now my dad says fuck the details
|
Just keep your head down hard
|
Ya got to find yourself alone before you'll find the eyes of God
|
You make broke and scared and out of jail
|
Out the flesh of your own heartstrings
|
But you were born to be a peasant not a king
|
So just stop acting like your running from something
|
Ya gonna leave the way you came without a thing
|
With your heart tattooed and your mind tied to a string
|
|
You just sing and you sing and you sing
|
It doesn't mean a thing
|
|
-----------------
|
It Doesn't Mean A Thing
|
The Airborne Toxic Event |