And it doesn't really read at all,
Like the whipping stick you rasied me with.
A scared woman in a privat hell,
Hushed voice like electric bells.
Strange talk about Edgar Casey,
and the long lame walk of the dark 70's.
I heard the truth about you,
Yeah you,
Mama they woke me up,
I was deep in an idiot sleep.
I was just 8 years old,
Heard big words with a horrible sound.
Why'd they have to call my school,
Tell me my mother had a nervous breakdown.
I wish I believed like you do,
Yeah you.
In the myth of a merciful God,
In the myth of a heaven and hell.
I hear the voices you hear sometimes.
Sometimes it gets to much,
I feel like letting it go,
Sometimes it gets so hard,
I feel like letting it go.
Sometimes it gets so goddamn hard,
I feel like letting it all go.
Letting it all go.
I went away and went lookin for you,
Back to Culver City and the old neighborhood.
Need to know if you were really gone,
Need to know if you were gone for good.
I ran through the projects at night,
Hide in the dark from my friends in the light.
Hide from my brother-in-law.
Hide from the things he'd say.
Said you weren't losing your mind,
Said you just needed a rest.
He said you'd be coming home soon,
Said the doctors there would know whats best.
Said that maybe I could go live with them for awhile.
I know the truth about you,
I know the truth.
Mama they woke me up,
I was just eight years old.
Sometimes it gets so hard,
I feel like letting it go.
Sometimes it gets so hard,
I feel like letting it all go.
Letting it all go.
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