Lyric What s The Matter Here

That young boy without a name I d know his face. In
this city the kid s my favorite. I ve seen him. I see him every
day. Seen him run outside looking for a place to hide from his
father, the kid half naked and said to myself "O, what s the
matter here?" I m tired of the excuses everbody uses, he s their
kid I stay out of it, but who gave you the right to do this?
We live on Morgan Street; just ten feet between and his
mother, I never see her, but her screams and cussing, I hear them
every day. Threats like: "If you don t mind I will beat on your
behind,""Slap you, slap you silly." made me say, "O, what s the
matter here?" I m tired of the excuses everybody uses, he s your
kid, do as you see fit, but get this through that I don t approve
of what you did to you own flesh and blood.
"If you don t sit on this chair straight I ll take this
belt from around my waist and don t think that I won t use it!"
Answer me and take your time, what could be the awful
crime he could do at such young an age? If I m the only witness
to your madness offer me some words to balance out what I see and
what I hear. All these cold and rude things that you do I suppose
you do because he belongs to you and instead of love, the feel of
warmth you ve given him these cuts and sores won t heal with time or
age.
I want to say "What s the Matter here?" But I don t dare say.