They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.
Don’t tell me that their all the same
‘Cause even the sound of his name
Carries me over their reach
Back to some golden beach
Where only he remains
You planted your eyes on my feet
You told me to dig my heels deep
The night wore the rain
On her windowpane
Drifted us to sleep