Sometimes I Wish He Were Dead

Sometimes I wish he were dead

And I know I shouldn't say that, but...

But, you know

Yeah

I'm his mother

I should love him

But you try loving' him

Tell me how you do

Tell me how you love someone
Sittin' in a jail cell
For doing that sorta thing
To a little girl like that

Having people tell you
It must be you

Must be your fault

You raised him, didn't you?

Raising that boy
Was like raising a lion

Only a matter of time
Before he gets hungry

And Lord knows I couldn't feed him
Couldn't feed him enough

Gave him all the good I could
And he still got mixed up

In the drugs and the burglaries
And then into worse stuff

Stuff I stopped wanting to hear about
When he'd call me up
Begging

Begging for money and forgiveness

I ran out of one
Then the other

But you know...

. . . . .

I'm sick to my stomach

Not at what he's done
But about somethin' my mama did
When I was about twelve

My brother had shot a man
A nice father from Shute Falls
Just buying milk at the grocery

My brother thought the man saw his face
While he was running out of the store
Pockets with cash just fallin' out of 'em
And he pulled out his gun
And shot that man

And when he came home
My mama told me to get a change of clothes
And the keys to my daddy's car

She knew what he'd done
He had blood on his chest
From where the man--

He grabbed at him
As he was falling

The man

Grabbed at him

At the man who shot him

Touched him, actually

And my brother ran off

I wanted to call the police
But my mama gave me a good slap
And told me to get those damn clothes
And some food to take with him

'That's your brother,' she said, 'That's your family'

But he didn't feel like family

I looked at him
All bloodied up
And mean
And gasping for breath

And I thought--He ain't my family

That's what I thought

But I also thought

That's mama's son

That's how come she can do this

And he wasn't even on drugs

Just wanted money to buy himself nice things
And walk around like he was somebody

Never wanted to work for a damn thing
While I had to waitress
Before I could even read the menus

He wasn't worth the skin God put him in
But my mama still loved him
And she still shipped him off
Like he deserved saving

And when the police showed up
My mother, who never lied in her life
Said she didn't know where he was

They told her about the man
Dead in the street
Two little kids
And a pregnant wife
And my mama didn't even wince

Because that wasn't her husband
That wasn't her son
That was just some stranger
And you can't go on worrying about a world full of strangers, can you?

You can only worry about yourself
And the people who got the same blood running inside 'em

After the police left
That's what my mama said

She said, I can only take care of my flock
God understands that

But I didn't believe her
And I still don't

Because when Richie started doing those drugs
And started going and going and...

I didn't feel nothin'

And when he did that last thing

I got fed up

Disowned him

Wouldn't even go visit him anymore

My mother came over my house
And slapped my face again
Just like she had that day

Said--'That's your son'

And ain't it no wonder he's so damn bad
With a mother like you
Who never loved him

Except this time I slapped her back
And said--You're lucky I didn't tell the cops where to find him

And she knew I wasn't talkin' about Richie either

Now she goes and visits him
And I just sit here
Watching the t.v.
And wondering if she's right

Did I give up on him
When they showed me that little girl's picture?

Or did I do it before that?

Before he became what he is

Hard to tell

Truly, hard to tell