The Father Who Must Be Killed

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Morrissey

Steven Patrick Morrissey (born 22 May 1959), known as Morrissey, is an English singer and lyricist. He rose to prominence in the 1980s as the lyricist and vocalist of the band The Smiths. The band was highly successful in the United Kingdom but broke up in 1987, and Morrissey began a solo career, making the top ten of the UK Singles Chart on ten occasions. His first solo album, 1988's Viva Hate entered the UK albums chart at number one. Widely regarded as an important innovator in indie music, Morrissey has been described by music magazine NME as "one of the most influential artists ever", and The Independent has stated "most pop stars have to be dead before they reach the iconic status he has reached in his lifetime".Pitchfork Media has called him "one of th… more »

Year:

2006

3:53

94 Views

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Stepchild, you have outlived your time
You represent embarrassment and failure
And the father who must be killed
Is the blight upon your blighted life
And his might is his legal right
To ground you down

Stepchild, with every petty swipe
You just might find you're fighting for your life
And the father who must be killed
Is a step farther but nonetheless
The way he chews his food
Rips right through your senses

Stepchild, there's a knife in a drawer in a room downstairs
And you, you know what you must do
So the stepchild ran with a knife to his sleeping frame
And slams it in his arms, his legs, his face, his neck and says
There's a law against me now
And the father who must be killed
With his dying breath, he grabs her hand
And he looks into her eyes
He says "I'm sorry" and he dies

Stepchild, I release you
With this broken voice I beseech you

Why are lives so short?
The stepchild thought half pointing to the sky
No one to warn me
No hand to touch me
And no Bible-belters to mess with me
Mama don't miss me
Mama don't miss me
This death will complete me
"But where I go there will be no one to meet me
I know there will be no one to meet me"
But still the step-child press the knife to her throat
Half pointing to the sky
Just as mother-less birds fly high
Then so shall I
So shall I
So shall I
So shall I
So shall I

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