I can barely make out a little light from the house on the cul-de-sac
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bedroom upstairs, it's a family affair.
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I've watched you in class, your eyes are cut glass and you stay covered up,
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head to your toe, so nobody will notice you
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I might not be a man yet,
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but that bastard will never be,
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so I'm cleaning my Weatherby
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I sight in my scope
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and I hope against hope.
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I hope against hope.
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Your mother seems nice, I don't understand why she won't say anything.
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As if she can't see who he turned out to be.
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I might not be a man yet,
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but your father will never be.
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so I load up my Weatherby,
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and I let out my breath,
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and I couple with death.
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I couple with death.
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Saw your father last night, and in the window the light made a silhouette.
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Saw him hold you that way, he won't hold you that way anymore, Yvette.
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-----------------
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Yvette
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| Jason Isbell |