I know a guy who's wild, who was touched by his uncle as a child
It didn't fuck him up, but it made things very hard for him when he was changing size
Didn't get along well with other guys
And knew he wasn't gay, but didn't know how he could prove it
Nowadays he's well, but if he ever saw his uncle
Hell, he wouldn't lay a finger, wouldn't bother speak his name
He'd just take out a photograph of a little boy, aged nine subtract a year or two
And tell the man "I hope that you're ashamed
Cos what you did was wrong, and now it's written in a song
Of how you felt up your own nephew, when he was just this age
And if I was a weaker dude, I may have lost it all and blew my brains out on the carpet in a fit of saddened rage
But I will live another day, lucky for you I am brave
And I'll live in a treehouse, up there with all my friends
Friends who won't know who you are, or of the things that left me scarred
And I won't know the day when you come to your timely end"
So as I said, this boy is wild, undefined by his troubled childhood
And we sing together in our home up in the trees
Songs sung best when sung aloud
Sung with friends who love it how we will laugh forever, cos we know that we are free
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