And they're sitting there Perfect cigarettes and made up To impress them here Fighting fear and faced the climb up Trapped atop the bars Teased and tortured, never let up A grip to last for years Quickly old but never grown up Abysmal sunny day Kicking down the cluttered sidewalk Stops the childrens' play Interrupts with screaming frenzy Crush the little dolls Shards of plastic parts sent flying Continues on the way Mouths agape, left to recover Blanc looks quite the same Just as pale and slightly older Her uncle's gun Every morning polished metal Even for the fun Or possibly to end their prison It's no secret there Quite like Hank to be it fatal But the joke's on them Not a means to end her prison Blanc still acts the same All dismayed, her parents frightened All that's left for me is Someday, maybe