Father was [bad word] on the porch
Quietly cleaning his guns
While we sat and watched the sunset from the roof
Drinking stolen beer the day I turned twelve

Mama was losing her mind
So we built a home in the woods
And I carved our names in the side with a knife
We found beneath the house the day you turned twelve

And I am always reminded of lies
That we told but never meant
And at night, well I still hear you grin
Like an echo sounding from my sins [bad word] on, let me in

I remember the cast on your arm
From when we were convinced we could fly
And we covered it up in fake names to make it seem
Like you were famous when you came back to school

Sure we never had much
But we did just as we pleased
We had no concern for anything beyond the day we were living in
We had no need to dream

And I am always reminded of lies
That we told but never meant
And at night I could still hear your grin
Like an echo sounding from my sins
 [bad word] on, let me in