on the outside, nobody'd ever known he was unhappy.
he had his mother's eyes, soft and blue,
reminded me of babies for some reason.
he used to pop in every now and then to give me the news,
gossip he'd heard at school that day,
the what-not.
i was real sick at the time, mama had to keep me hidden away sometimes,
ya know, i think she was a little ashamed seeing how it was a little her fault.
i didn't blame her for nothin' though.
anyways, he came and went as he pleased, nice boy he was.
used to wrap me up in a blanket and wheel me onto the porch so we could watch
the cars and the rich folk with dogs jog right on by, like they ain't never seen a girl with no hair
and a boy as handsome as he was.
we was a regular spectacle, a bonafide freak show,
and them people they always gonna talk, but he told me that the only people that listen are
the ones doin' the talkin', and that ain't us, so we ain't listenin'.
i didn't find out about his daddy until about a month after it happened,
for some reason people have a hard time telling someone who's dying that somebody died,
can you believe that?
he stopped comin' around so much after that, figured it was 'cause a his mama (with the eyes)
needin' extra help round the house.
weeks, maybe even a month went by 'fore i saw him again,
but he wasn't the same boy, and i sure as hell wasn't the same girl.
he looked at me, with them eyes, as if he'd just lost the lottery.
ya know, he sat me down and told me that he couldn't be around me no more,
seeing as how i was dyin' and all. ( i thought that was pretty dumb, i may be dyin' but i ain't dead yet)
he held my hand in his, his was a little clammy, i think 'cause he was so sad and all.
we sat there for a few minutes, hand in hand, thinkin' bout life and death, and the johnny carson show.
now, he never said nothin', but i think he loved me. i never got to find out the truth though.
he disappeared after that day, nobody heard from him, his mama was all outta sorts.
i think he left town, couldn't stand seein' people lookin' at him and me all the time,
the bonafide freakshow,
couldn't stand bein' round his broken mama.
doesn't really matter where he went off to, he was gone just the same.
some days, when im sittin' on the porch, wrapped up in a blanket, waiting to die,
i feel his clammy hand holdin' mine.
you see, when you don't have much left to live for,
it's people like him that save you.