By Herb Cawthorne
What can we do
With our Dad’s worst trait
The one we hated
That tarnished our fate
What can we do
With our Mom’s mean streak
Can we hide its horrors
In the future we seek
Don’t tell anybody
Hide it away for years
Lie through our teeth
When asked about tears
There is a daunting fear
As new families take a seat
The children may be subject
To the horror show repeat
Our Daddy with his belt
Mom’s screaming tones
How much of that is in us
Are we dark-side family clones
Please don’t say it loudly
It’s like some dirty clothes
Afraid if we pull them out
Then everybody knows
How much bad Daddy
Is still there left in me
Lord, help me not repeat it
So my children never see
My Mama’s cursing days
Burned my why me heart
Never may my kids hear that
Whenever they get caught
Oh Lord, help me proclaim
What everyone can hear
Mom and Dad’s worst traits
Will never show up here
You gotta treat it
So you can defeat it
You gotta meet it
So you don’t repeat it
Love and honest words
Live together side by side
We’re only free of nasty traits
If we never let them hide
