Thanks Mom

Sitting in my room, to a friend I'm talking
Drunk again, in you come walking
It really doesn't matter to you what I say
When it's done I won't be OK
All the beatings and the abuse
I try to fight but there's no use
The bruises tell their own sad tale
The air is damp, bitter and stale
The blood pumps through my veins
I can feels it showing the stains
On the wall, and on the floor
No one cares... and no one ever will...