Song Lyrics

That young boy without a name I'd know his face
In this city the kid's my favorite
I've seen him I see him every day
Seen him run outside looking for a place to hide from his father
The kid half naked and said to myself "Oh, what's the matter here?"
I'm tired of the excuses everybody uses, he's their kid I stay out of it
But who gave you the right to do this?

We live on Morgan Street
Just ten feet between and his mother, I never see her
But her screams and cussing, I hear them every day
Threats like: "If you don't mind I will beat on your behind"
"Slap you, slap you silly"
Made me say, "Oh, what's the matter here?"
I'm tired of the excuses everybody uses, he's your kid, do as you see fit
But get this through that I don't approve of what you did to you own flesh and blood

"If you don't sit on this chair straight
I'll take this belt from around my waist and don't think that I won't use it!"

Answer me and take your time
What could be the awful crime he could do at such young an age?
If I'm the only witness to your madness offer me some words to balance out what I see and what I hear
All these cold and rude things that you do I suppose you do because he belongs to you
And instead of love, the feel of warmth you've given him these cuts and sores won't heal with time or age

And I want to say, I want to say "What's the matter here?"
But I don't dare say "What's the matter here?"
But I don't dare say

Robert Buck, Natalie Merchant