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What's the matter here

Höfundur lags: 10,000 Maniacs Sent inn af: Anonymous
[A]That young boy without a name anywhere I'd know his face.
In this city the kid's my favorite.
I've see[D]n him. I see him[E] every d[A]ay.  
Seen him run outside looking for a place to hide from his father,
the kid half naked and sa[D]id to myself "[E]O, what's the matter he[A]re?"
I'm ti[D]red of the e[E]xcuses everbo[A]dy uses, he's their [D]kid I st[E]ay out of [A]it,  
but w[D]ho gave y[E]ou the right[A] to do thi[D]s?  

[A]We live on Morgan Street;
just ten feet between and his mother, I never see her,
but her sc[D]reams and cussing,[E] I hear them every d[A]ay.  
[A]Threats like: "If you don't mind I will beat on your behind,"
"Slap you, slap you silly."
made me [D]say,[E] "O, what's the mat[A]ter here?"
I'm ti[D]red of the ex[E]cuses everyb[A]ody uses, he's your k[D]id, do as y[E]ou see f[A]it,  
but ge[D]t this throug[E]h that I[A] don't approve of what you d[D]id to you o[E]wn flesh
and bl[A]ood.

[A]    [D]    [E]    
[D]I'm tired of [E]the excuses [A]everybody uses, he's [D]your kid, d[E]o as you[A] see fit,
but ge[D]t this throug[E]h that I[A] don't approve of what you d[D]id to you o[E]wn flesh
and bl[A]ood.


[A]"If you don't [D]sit on this chair straight
I'll take this belt from around my waist and don't think that I won't use it!"

[D]Answer me and tak[E]e your time,
[A]what could be the awful crime he [D]could do at s[E]uch young an a[A]ge?  
If I'm the [D]only witness to [E]your madness o[A]ffer me some words to balance [D]out  
what I se[E]e and what I h[A]ear.
All these co[D]ld and ru[E]de thing[A]s that you do I suppo[D]se you do beca[E]use he
belongs to y[A]ou  
and inst[D]ead of love, the f[E]eel of warmth yo[A]u've given him these cuts and
so[D]res won't he[E]al with time or a[A]ge.  
I want to say, want to say [D]"What's the M[E]atter he[A]re?"
But I don't dare sa[D]y.  
"Wh[E]at's the Matter h[A]ere?"
But I don't dare [D]say. S[E]ay  [A]    




That young boy without a name anywhere I'd know his face.
In this city the kid's my favorite.
I've seen him. I see him every day.
Seen him run outside looking for a place to hide from his father,
the kid half naked and said to myself "O, what's the matter here?"
I'm tired of the excuses everbody uses, he's their kid I stay out of it,
but who gave you the right to do this?

We live on Morgan Street;
just ten feet between and his mother, I never see her,
but her screams and cussing, I hear them every day.
Threats like: "If you don't mind I will beat on your behind,"
"Slap you, slap you silly."
made me say, "O, 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 approve of what you did to you own flesh
and blood.


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 approve of what you did to you own flesh
and blood.

"If you don't sit on this chair straight
I'll take this belt from around my waist and don't think that I won't use it!"

Answer me and take your time,
what could be the awful crime he could do at such young an age?
If I'm the only witness to your madness offer me some words to balance out
what I see and what I hear.
All these cold and rude things that you do I suppose you do because he
belongs to you
and instead of love, the feel of warmth you've given him these cuts and
sores won't heal with time or age.
I want to say, 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. Say

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