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Too Heavy For Cherubs
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Cage
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1
A cold day in hell, I feel good
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At least I feel as good as real feels if real even feels good
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I think back to being a kid and getting my ass kicked
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And when I sold my soul to the devil to make me rap sick
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Page from Cage's brain, angels dust off the ungodly
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Riding through my childhood and hit my six year old body
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Black-out for second, pick my head up off the street
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Little kid hands my face - its not me in the driver seat
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Father comes out screaming ("Holy Shit!") drops the cigarettes and lighter
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Scoops me up with his left arm, his right fist snuffed the driver
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Takes me in the house, stops the blood from wandering out
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Is this a dream or time travel? I ponder on the couch
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Walks in with a black bag, "Chris, we're gonna play a game, alright?"
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Wrap my rubber snake around his arm and made me pull it tight
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Hit himself with a spike, drew blood and pulled his mask down
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My hands blue until he let my arm go and he passed out
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"Ah...you know you're my little son, right?
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I love you, you're my little son..."
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Erratic then gone, I go from manic to calm
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Watching the yellow liquid dripping back out of his arm
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No automatic alarm sounded
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Trying to wrap my six year old brain around it
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Went in his pockets, took his money and couldn't count it
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Went to the front door but its locked, observe it
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Pulled up a chair to reach the dead bolt
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But I'm too weak to turn it
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Give it another try all the while still scoping him
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Now I pan the room and see my escape in the open window
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Scurry the floor
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Climb out, hang, then drop into the snow
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And my captor snatches me back up
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"Chris, where you going?"
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Pulls me back into hell
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Starts shaking me, to weaken me
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To teachin' me to be a man by repeatedly beating me
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I hope I grow up before I'm finished being strangled
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I black out then wake up tied to the coffee table
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With a jump rope cable to my ankle so I can't run
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He walks back in the room
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"I need you help again, son"
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"I'm gonna wrap this around my arm just like before
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You pull the other end"
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[Slaps his arm to get his veins ready]
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"Pull it tighter, pull it tighter!
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Alright, let go! Let go Chris!!
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Uuuaaaghhhh...
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You have to take care of your mother
48
This is an M16...I got this in the army
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Private Murray...reporting...for...duty..."
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