Unfortunate Sons & Daughters

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Tim Stiles

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"Just travel the way... a child travels... 
Round and around... and back home again... 
To a place we know we are loved."

Come meet the orderlies obligated to an ordinance
Of rounding jagged corners for our family's sake
When things fall out of order and patching wounds is in order
We're ordered to Band-Aid a scuffed knee or bloody face

Repair is important and there's nothing more rewarding than
Reordering the sad gaze on a child's face
But there's so much more to this, from breadwinning cabinets
To breaking bread games while our fists remain quarter-less

A penny saved is a penny's earned in plenty of ways, but not when returned
By swallowing copper until subordinate bellies ache
We remedy disorder while kept within our corner
Never sipping wine, just gripping vines, and crushing grapes

This mess of obligation soon causes arbitration
Such expectations are distorted, at best
We are man, myth, Unfortunate Son Ornaments
Who hang our crowns, florissant until laid to rest

We don't tear. We don't feel feelings...
We don't care 'cause we're not human beings...

We don't share. We don't need feelings...
We don't share 'cause we're not human beings
We don't care...

"The hardest part... Is realizing that you're in charge."

They are the orderlies obligated to an ordinance
Of reading quarterlies while placing makeup on their face
When things fall out of order, consulting us is their order
Ensuring beds are made before serving up dinner plates

Sure, they are gorgeous, and bearing children's important
But it's blown all out of proportion once the media's engaged
There's so much more to them. Their true image is distorted when
Saying their intelligence is a quarter of men's

This petty game plays Penny's worth. What Penny claims is never returned
Swallowing copper as her pregnant belly aches
She drowns in this disorder. Just stays within her corner
Sipping wine... This design's a crying shame

Excessive consternation soon causes loss of weight and
Such expectations keep her cornered, at best
She is woman, a saint, an Unfortunate Daughter Ornament
Whose name's to remain honored with the utmost respect

They do tear. They have real feelings...
They do care 'cause they're human beings...

They will share when they feel feelings
But we don't care 'cause we're not human beings
We should share...

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