This is a rap song about my brother
James's fist through the widow - I can still see
you'd think after all these years- I'd be free
Right on , right on , right on , right on
It started when - he was fourteen
It was nothing like - I'd ever seen
My god , my god , my god , my god
my mum and dad - didn't know what to do
the older he got - the worse it grew
temper , temper, temper , temper
It's been so long - but my minds not free
that's why I want to be her - and not he
Mental, mental , mental , mental
Sometimes I take a bottle - and cut myself
It's because I can't blame -no one else
my fault , my fault , my fault , my fault
I'm afraid to me -that men are scum
because of the way - he treated my mum
Bruises , bruises , bruises , bruises
James's fist through the window- I can still see
just after that - it was the TV
Stop it , stop it , stop it , stop it
I wanted to cry- but the tears wouldn't come
so inside me - I stated to run
No men , no men , no men , no men
Even now - when I hear glass smash
it brings me up- in a nervous rash
memories , memories , memories , memories
I'm afraid - that it's all far to deep
and the damage done - is mine to keep
James's fist - the through the window
and then on on my mum
changed me forever
and I'm still -on the run