The Man With the Orange Jumpsuit.

Back when I was a little kid,
there was a man back home.
He used to kick me in the belly
and break a lot of my bones.

Momma was never happy,
she was always afraid.
She was covered in bruises,
and her happiness decayed.

He'd hit her all the time,
whenever he was drunk.
I would stay,with tears in my eyes.
Until he screamed "What're looking at punk?"

I would crawl back to bed,
trying to come up with a pretext
for him to not hit me,
cause I knew I was next.

He slammed the door open,
but what I didn't expect
was my mother with policemen.
So,she finally earned my respect.

They took him away
and last time I saw,
he wore an orange jumpsuit
and had a broken jaw.