[Bodey]

It was the summer of ’93, yet we still sported JNCO jeans
With one pant-leg to the knee, please advise the bike-chain grease
Streetlights flickered on, gesturing our parents to call for us
Grew up on the same suburban block in Hollywood, Florida
Such popular kids, dirtying the jokes on our popsicle sticks
And that GI Joe with the voice box was awesome as shit
Parachutes were ready, bottle rockets were lit
Stood over the channel and shot ‘em off of a bridge
One day we were playin pogs, and I was about to win
And then you started goin off, chuckin the slammer at my head
You never showed me you were sorry, it’s outrageous that I stayed
I should’ve known that this was just the budding stages of your rage
Now we’re 17-years old, and you still tell me that we’re boys
But anytime I’d get a girl, you’d get jealous and annoyed
And I never spoke up, I guess because I was afraid
So I tried to spend my time with Lisa, she was always a good lay
Until the day that you walked in on us and threw a fist across my face
I opened my eyes to the sound of her sobbing, it's obvious she had lost it
She told me how you forced yourself inside her while I laid nearby unconscious
That’s it, I told myself, this motherfucker is gonna die
I came home that night, and I begged my parents one more time:
“Can we please move?”
My mother asked to pass the rice
My father would rather toss me money than to ask about my eye
“Kids get into scuffles all the time, is it so wrong to assume that we thought everything was fine?”
Bobby Kent was the high school athlete, every teacher’s wet dream
No adult in this town thought to ask me if he’s really all what he seems
He’s a modern-day Eddie Haskel, a narcissistic asshole
And I’ll be damned if he gets the future that his daddy couldn’t have, so
I invited him out to the Everglades, said there was gonna be a party
He squeezed my shoulder on the way like, “You're my best friend, Marty.”
What he didn’t know is that I brought my hunting knife
And when I jammed the blade into his gut, he said something like,
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, whatever I did, please don’t kill me!”
His hands were jarring, and my bloody fingernails were filthy
I tackled him to the ground, it was so easy to get him down
Slashing his throat until the gurgling sounds drowned out of his mouth
Days later, I was arrested.
They wondered how a kid like me could get so aggressive
Well, as the product of a cozy middle American family,
Consider this crime my message.