A family's a garden,
To be tended with care,
With beautiful flowers,
That will have a thousand stares,
But every so often,
A weed will sprout,
And if it's not pulled,
The truth will come out,
The father's a drunk,
With a drink in his hand,
And the son is so angry,
With too many demands,
The daughter's naive,
To young to understand,
And the mother knows why,
Dad has a drink in his hand,
And slowly, but surely,
The petals fall down,
And the weeds are still not,
Ripped from the ground,
So the truth will come out,
Not now but in less than a year,
When a tradegy strikes,
Everyone's greatest fear,
Now there are three flowers left,
The father is dead,
Apperantly there was,
To Much Pain in his head,
So he killed himself,
And left the flowers behind,
And now the daughter is sick,
Something wrong with his mind,
She is sad all the time,
With tears in her eyes,
And now there are scars,
All over her thighs,
So the flowers have wilted,
And the garden is strange,
While the flower will pray,
That the garden will change.
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