The trauma model

A child sits alone and listens to his mother cry
About how she wants to die
Because she cannot provide
And her children sleep together
Because its so cold outside
And she don't know that he hears her
But she keeps him up all night
And his sisters will be mothers like her
And his brothers absent fathers like theirs
Hell grow up to shoot some men
So in turn hell get shot back
My bullet wounds start to ache I predict rain

And thats pain
A child laid alone couldn't sleep shed toss
And turn fidgety and finicky like the skin
She was in burned
And her father had to teach her
What a mother only should and it took her further
Than any college degree could but it was just no good
What the boy liked the most
Was the way she never let it show
And since he found her body he just sits out on the coast
All alone with the oceans moan
Skipping stones with her ghost

And thats pain

Its the motherfuckin boogeyman
I drop to my knees and pray that I can change my ways
Ive been watching people die since I was a boy
My own life dont even matter to me
Imagine how I feel about yours
Growing up just means a game
Where two kids fight over a weapon
And the loser is slain
You best be man enough to squeeze the gun
Right in his heart because his head
Won't always get it done

And thats pain

Pain ain't the scars or the cuts pain is
When you know youre not enough
Pain is possessing no trust pain is
When you dont feel what you touch
Pain ain't shooting a man dead
Its afterward what happens in your head
Pain is when you never ever scare
And you see and hear things that arent there