Broken Home from Fixer Upper by Chris Gockley

I saw the coffee stain against the wall,
ceramic littering the ground.
They both turned to see me
after they'd been screaming.
Explicably, the next day, he was gone.

But this ain't no broken family.
Not three shattered souls.
Just 'cause he's not here doesn't mean we're left alone.
No, this ain't a broken home.

After that I fought a lot with Mom,
but your daughter tried to make us stop.
She'd yell "that's enough" and Mom'd retire to her room
and I stole a pack of Camels and lit off.

Everybody knew you got religion.
We came to visit you at a church.
And while people on an alter knelt, screaming, speaking tongues,
we left your exorcism.

While you say "Oh My God"
He still won't be there.
While you say "Oh My God"
I hear the way
that you say "I wish you luck"
and think of failure.
Maybe if I lose as much, I might feel the same.

Some nights I'd help cook family dinner:
Mom was working late behind a bar.
One night my friends came over and I got handcuffed to the floor
by this local cop who figured he'd take charge.

• Alternative
• acoustic
• direct
• indie
• lo-fi
• songwriter
• Albany