What's the Matter Here?

That young boy without a nameAnywhere I'd know his faceIn this city the kid's my favoriteI've seen him, seen himI see him every day

Seen him run outsideLooking for a place to hideFrom his father, the kid half nakedAnd said to myself"Oh, what's the matter here?"

I'm tired of the excuses everybody uses"He's their kid, I stay out of it"But who gave you the rightTo do this?

We live on Morgan StreetJust ten feet betweenAnd his mother, I never see herBut her screams and cussingI hear them every day

Threats like "If you don't mindI will beat on your behindSlap you, slap you silly"Made me say"Oh, what's the matter here?

I'm tired of the excuses everybody uses"He's your kid, do as you see fit"But get this through that I don't approveOf what you didTo your own flesh and blood

I have heard the excuses everybody uses"He's your kid, do as you see fit"But get this through that I don't approveOf what you didTo your own flesh and blood

"If you don't sit in your chair straightI'll take this belt from around my waistAnd don't you think that I won't use it"

Answer me - and take your time -What could be the awful crimeHe could do at so young an age?If I'm the only witness to your madnessOffer me some words to balanceOut what I see and what I hear

All these cold and rude things that you doI suppose you do because he "belongs to you"And instead of love and the feel of warmthYou've given him these cuts and soresThat won't heal with time or with age

And I want to say, "Hi"Want to say "What's the matter here?"But I don't dare say "What's the matter here?"But I don't dare say...