Junkyard Lyrics

I have lived in a junkyard
Where the weeds eat up the rain
If you get anything there even out of place
You know there's hell to payAnd he said "you're as sick as you are lovely
And in need of a hand"
He tells me "you are never worthy"
But I was just a child you see
That's my realityHe had a sick little girl
Dirty and hard
With a breast plate made of metal
She drives all day in her rusty Buick
Her feet don't reach the pedals
He got a jar of flies
His father's disguise
Where his heart should be
Her mouth is sewn together
She screams with those eyes
She screams with those eyes

She screams with those eyesShe's as sick as she is lovely
And in need of my hand, yeah he uses his hands
He tells her "you are never worthy"
She was all alone you see
That was her realityYeah!
Well I should have been sleeping
Should have been dreaming
But I wake up to broken glass
There'll be one more
Empty desk in my homeroom class
I got an old bone pocket knife
Tight in my right hand
To save my poor mother from the junkyard manHe's as sick as he is lovely
And in need of a hand
He will know he's not worthy
When he dies alone you'll see
And that's his reality
I'm not sick, I am lovely
Hatred is the curse of manAnd I will not feel unworthy
'Cause I have washed my hands you see
That's my reality, yeah
Songwriters
ROGER WATERS, ZAC BROWNPublished by
Lyrics © Peermusic Publishing, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.