breaking out of a broken home
misery makes for interesting bedfellows
the project blocks shrink in the distance
while he makes his way for parts unknown
     thinkin about being full grown

odd jobs fill the lonely days
and hunger pains give the night hours life
looking out from a tattered box
understanding all his dreams are blown
     wishing he was really full grown

on an oil crew just outside of Gnome
spring in Alaska so nice and mellow
attempting to make a living wage, meeting resistance
feeling like he is all alone
     knowing he is not full grown

on his knees he sits and prays
to grant him happiness, to take a wife
without a key, he picks the locks
like a mighty bird already flown
     he waits and waits to be full grown

through his matted hair he pulls a comb
the tangles cause him to scream and bellow
but he doesn’t give up relaying on his persistence
never realizing he is completely owned
     which is the year he becomes full grown

on the soft grass he stares and lays
looking back on the years of strife
imagining himself free like the Fox
escaping his lips, a defeated moan
     I may not live long enough to be full grown

in a nice wool suit sitting by the phone
looking out at the daffodils blooming yellow
a flash of realization hits him in an instance
all I do is **** and groan
    waiting to be told that I am full grown

peace surrounds him and the feeling stays
rest finds him, granting and end to his life
buried now under clumpy dirt and rocks
he died as he lived without ever getting the bone
    not really knowing he was always full grown