I was a fed-up kid
no money nothing to do
& my old man would interrogate
on my time out of the house
weighed in by my stepmother
looking for openings
places to trip up
& most of the time I was innocent
just hanging out
climbing trees talking shit
who we could beat up
who we had to run from
& then we found an opening
crawl space back of the local sport club
could sit there in the dark
drink a couple of bottle beers
making sure to tidy up after
& there we had our real adventures
once escaping in seconds
as the front door got unlocked
we had secrets now swore never to tell
& no matter how the old man intimidated
how she swore to wear me down
I kept that inside like a fed up
punk kid no money nothing to do