There's a little cell with a bad, bad man in its walls, a charge of molestation and with no family to call. Bad life decisions, man, he sure did make them all, it's funny though he'll say that he never enjoyed alcohol

And I can tell you that this is not the life for me, a fucked up father with a taste for methamphetamines. I'm so lucky that I have yet to replicate the same decisions incorporated in my DNA

There's an accident 15 miles out from 31, a bat out of hell with an insatiable thirst for fun. Addiction runs so far back in his family tree that he didn't see the headlights from the traffic that was oncoming

And I can tell you that this is not the life I want, a step-brother whose memory is now an afterthought. A love for the drink and any other friendly chemical has created a statistic now and forevermore

There's an apathetic man in his bedroom writing down this song, trying to think of reasons why he cannot cry at all. So many times he's felt it when it all just seems so very wrong, separated from the people who so very much used to belong

And I can tell you that this is the perfect life for me, disconnected from the people with so much harm to bring and I can tell you that there's not much more to sing, with them so far gone, what's the point in them even listening?