Fine Lines

I wanna talk about fine lines....
How one person
   can think about doin a thing...
And another person
   can cross the line and do it.

I'll tell ya..
   havin consorted with the enemy
     as a child...
Ya know what that word means-
   consort?
It's like con-sort..
It means bein a partner to someone...
Bein a partner to a con

So....havin consorted with the enemy,
   meanin the perp---that's "perpetrator"...
                         as a child...
Makes it so the two of you
   get awfully close to each other...
In a lotta ways close...
And we're not just talkin
   a body thing here...
We're talkin about your brain
   gettin wired up different...
   gettin wired up by the perp
   who's messin with your
       little kid body.

The brain gets wired up
   all sorts of weird ways---
Love, for starters...
   that gets really fucked up...
   cause it gets all hooked in
   with shit it don't belong with---
     like your body hurtin,
       and bein scared
     of someone you trust.
Good and bad...
They get real twisted-up.
A little kid thinkin maybe
   she's doin something bad.
But the perp says,
   "No, you're not bein, bad, honey.
   You're makin Daddy feel good.
   You're a good girl."
Like I said---
   the shit gets twisted.
Then there's pleasure and pain---
   they get wired up in your brain,
     real weird, when you're a kid,
       consortin with the enemy.
  
So, a kid lives through this hell
   where her body and mind
     ain't her own.
The kid's just a piece
     of the perp's property...
Somethin he uses to get off...
   whether it's by beatin her senseless
     cause he can't stand his self...
   or by lovin her up
     way more than he should,
If ya know what I mean...

So all the feelings the kid has
   about all that's goin on...
All those feelings...
   they get stored up somewhere.
The kid keeps em locked away
   in a closet...
   or buried in the backyard...
Whatever the kid comes up with,
   in her head...
   that'll keep her
   from dyin inside.

Time goes by...
   years...
The hole in the back yard
   gets deeper....and more filled
         with bad feelings.
The closet gets so the kid
   can barely close the door
   anymore.

And then the kid's not a kid
   anymore.
She grew up.

And so, here I am.

I drive behind a schoolbus
   an I could blow up the motherfucker.
I see little kids
   with their bright, pretty backpacks
         gettin off the bus...
         going home...
             to their happy little lives
I could aim an shoot...
   knock em down, one at a time...
   like them ducks, at the carnival.
In the supermarket, I hear a kid screamin...
I could slap some sense into that kid...
   give her a reason to scream.
I see a 5 year-old girl,
   wearin a bikini at Walmart...
I could rip that bikini off her...
I could shout, "You little slut!
   Is this what you want?
   Tell me you want it, little girl,,,
   Tell me you want it!!"...
       while I touched her down there.
I see a teenager wearin tight jeans...
   her face all alive and fresh-lookin...
   her blonde hair bouncin...
I could grab that girl off the street
   when she's comin home from school
I could drag her into an alley
   an fist-fuck the bitch...
   carve an X, into her chest,
   so she'd never forget me.

But I don't do a thing.
I don't do anything.
I just think about it...
Cause all them feelings
   that got stored up all them years---
They turned into some kinda creature,
   that lives inside me.
He's damn fuckin ugly...
An he was created by the perp...
He IS the perp...
Livin inside me.


How dare he do that?
Plant his self inside me...
A scumbag I got to live with
   the rest of my life.

I could kill 'im, for doin that.
I really could.
I could kill 'im.
But I don't.
See-that's what I'm sayin...
I could kill 'im,
   but I don't.

It's a fine line, man.
It's a fuckin fine line.