Hope, Was Not a Smith Family Tradition

Hope, was not a Smith family tradition
Neither was coming home sober with your paycheck still intact
At least tension was a tangible situation
Unlike fate, and disease, and the cricket songs of regret

Words, were not the Smith family was of discussing what they all knew was a curse in a Language children can't speak
The devil got his tongue in a state of progress finding new ways of adding more Splinters to the blood in our veins

Hallelujah our little boy of ten, has reached the top of the field again and he's gone, Out like the photograph; you had perched on the mantlepiece
Who's to say that if he gotten off that rattlesnake he would both survived and been Great? But he's gone just like all your other kids I assume, never to be bitten again

Stick by the phone til the wind dies down
Pray for polar ice caps to flood this town
He'll call her with instructions for old and young alike
She knows he'll disagree when she says let them die
This ain't no disaster this is the prince of parlor tea
Reclaiming wooden tables on behalf of the king and queen
The contents of your stomach fall within our lavish realm guards grind them up, we can't Survive without our champagne and cologne

Hallelujah our little friend of god, missed his tetanus shot and he got lockjaw now he's Gone, folded like a deck of cards buried out by the wishing well
I saw his ghost looking just like he did in life, with his nose turned up at immigrant Rights now he's poised, to haunt us for eternity, I would know if I was spiritual

Hallelujah our little boy of ten, has reached the top of the field again
And he's gone, out like the photograph; you had perched on the mantlepiece who's to say That if he gotten off that rattlesnake he both have survived and been great?
But he's gone, just like all your other kids I assume, never to be bitten again...