Do you think that I still love you?
If you act the way you think I wanted you to
Throw away the love that we once had
With the time we've loved
Thought we could never be sad
Don't touch my girfriend
Don't look cross in the eye
She's still my girlfriend
I'm thinking of you through the night
The way that you talk, the way that you smile
Could make me happy for a while
Things that you see, the things that I do
The way that you walk, the things that you say
Makes it hard to go away
Don't be so sad 'cause I thought that you knew
(That) I don't need you
If I could talk to you, would you turn away?
I convinced the girl there was nothing I could say
I knew there was a time when we were close
All this company, that's when you loved me the mostSixteen years of age. The suburb sets the scene.
Sixteen years of rage withheld and concealed.
Doors locked. Curtains drawn. Rehearsals begins.
Preparations made. The axe gets a final trim.
Shadowed figures came at night. The hands would
clutch and strike his thighs. The kid would not even
be weeping. This kid pretending he's sleeping.
Immaculate Pinetreeroad #930
Kept within his young strained mind all this damn time.
Not a hint at what grew steadily inside.
The hate during prayer at supper and the surpressed
at school. The need to be able to strike back grew.
Memories of fingers penetrating. Years of terror
generating emotions functioning as fuel
when this kid walks down his parents room.
Parts of bodies found. The blood splattered all around
The result of the hate unleashed. Just one shot was heard.
This suburb neighbourhood disturbed. This pained mind
has found peace. In the backyard. Shotgun at his side.
Difficult to identify. Sixteen years of age and dead.
Sixteen years of rage to an end.
Immaculate Pinetreeroad #930