Junkyard

I have lived in a junkyard Where the weeds eat up the rain If you get anything there even out of place You know there's hell to pay And he said "you're as sick as you are lovely And in need of a hand" He tells me "you are never worthy" But I was just a child you see That's my reality He had a sick little girl Dirty and hard With a breast plate made of metal She drives all day in her rusty Buick Her feet don't reach the pedals He got a jar of flies His father's disguise Where his heart should be Her mouth is sewn together She screams with those eyes She screams with those eyes She screams with those eyes She's as sick as she is lovely And in need of my hand, yeah he uses his hands He tells her "you are never worthy" She was all alone you see That was her reality Yeah! Well I should have been sleeping Should have been dreaming But I wake up to broken glass There'll be one more Empty desk in my homeroom class I got an old bone pocket knife Tight in my right hand To save my poor mother from the junkyard man He's as sick as he is lovely And in need of a hand He will know he's not worthy When he dies alone you'll see And that's his reality I'm not sick, I am lovely Hatred is the curse of man And I will not feel unworthy 'Cause I have washed my hands you see That's my reality, yeah --- Junkyard - Zac Brown Band