4.Daughter
Alone, listless. Breakfast table in an otherwise empty room.
Young girl, violence. Center of her own attention, no, no.
Mother reads aloud, child tries to understand it.
Tries to make her proud. Yeah.
The shades go down into her head.
Painted room. Can't deny there's something wrong.
Don't call me daughter. Not fit to.
The picture kept will remind me.
Don't call me daughter. Not fit to.
The picture kept will remind me.
Don't call me...
She holds the hand that holds her down.
She will rise above. Ooh... Woh.
Don't call me daughter. Not fit to.
The picture kept will remind me.
Don't call me daughter. Not fit to be.
The picture kept will remind me.
Don't call me daughter. Not fit to.
The picture kept will remind me.
Don't call me daughter. Not fit to.
The picture kept will remind me.
Don't call me...
The shades go down. (x4)
Woh...
I see a girl of the night with a baby in her hand.
Under an old street light. Oh, next to a garbage can.
Now she's put her kid away. She's going to get a hit.
She hates her life and what she's done with it.
That's one more kid that will never go to school, never get to
fall in love, never get to be cool.
That's one more kid that will never go to school, never get to
fall in love, never get to be cool. Oh...
He won the lotery when he was born. Yeah.
A big hand slaped the white male american.
Do no wrong. So clean cut. Dirty his hands it comes right off.
Police man. (x2)
Ooohhh...
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