for many, a haunting reality

I'll take the road less traveled by
That's what my father always said
Now he works in an office
With a whore in his bed

My mother sleeps alone at night
Dreaming of all her regret inside
I wanna tell her that I love her

Oh and if I could
I would've given her so much better
Cause no don't you tell me
That that man is my father
Oh just some hooded conceiver
Who tried really, really hard to please her

So I'm returning to my gladness
When I was only ten
Playing football in the front yard
And sweating with my friends

I remember when I was thirteen
It was October something
I was standing on that front lawn listening
That was the first time I heard You calling
As the sun was cooling down
And the moms were about to drive their kids around

And they say, "Blah, blah, blah, blah"
And they say, "Blah, blah, blah"
They give us truth deceiving
I don't think that's truth at all

And they say, "Blah, blah, blah, blah"
And they say. "Blah, blah, blah"
They give us love that's leaving
I don't think that's love

Oh and the steeple people
Oh they're so happy not knowing You
So boldly do they pervert Your truth
Oh did they think we wouldn't grow up
Did they think we couldn't throw back up
The sour milk they've been pouring down out throats

Oh they have raised one pissed off generation
With kids that have to start taking care of them
Like "Hey mom, get to work on time"
And "Hey dad, would you come home tonight?"
And "The both of you, stop drinking so much wine"

And they say, "Blah, blah, blah, blah"
And they say, "Blah, blah, blah"
They give us truth deceiving
I don't think that's truth at all

And they say, "Blah, blah, blah, blah"
And they say, "Blah, blah, blah"
They give us love that's leaving
I don't think that's love

-- "Sour Milk" by Wild Sweet Orange, from We Have Cause To Be Uneasy"