Spoonboy
Gerald Lee Palmer
Gerald Lee PalmerRaises his daughterIn a house in the suburbsHe spent half of his lifeMakin' auto partsHe dealt with the lay-offsAnd got an IT jobAnd raised his kids like statisticsNow every so often He thinks of his daughterShe wakes up,Still consumed by his silenceAnd he wonders whyShe don't call himShe gets by, Goes through with her lifeShe occasionally thinks aboutHow it's his faultThat she's fallenBelly up, belly upBelly up, belly upShe's fallen, belly upSongtexteBelly up, belly upShe's fallenSo we are all lonelyWe are all 'if only'sWe are all porcelain dolls on displayWe are all products ofHard-workin' AmericansBut we're roadblocks to efficiencyWe are the inaccuraciesWe are the victims of a culture thatDefines happiness in economicsAnd we wake upUnfulfilled by the silence ofA million clueless fuckin' patriarchsLike Gerald Lee PalmerWho misses his daughter,But he never even talked to herAnd it's his own fault now that he's fallin'Belly up, belly upBelly up, belly upHe's fallin' belly upBelly up, belly upHe's fallin'
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