Mathilda

Lyrics

[Intro] They used to call me Mathilda My mama kept my hair long I was more pretty than handsome And I was not very strong My voice was kinda high Not a typical guy They used to call me Mathilda I was never sure why I felt bad about it But I didn't get mad I got sad about it But I was all that I had [Instrumental Break] [Verse 1] Where's this order coming from? Do you hear it like a drum From back in time? Do you feel like who you are? Are you driven from afar? Along for the ride There's a manner in your town There's no way to turn it 'round Why even try? [Refrain] Just kids, we have our tests Look at your nails, is your palm out? If you hold your hands Unlike a man, it's not allowed We start out young It's too much fun to laugh out loud We think we're free But we don't see, our heads are bowed Our heads are bowed [Verse 2] I read somewhere that women will Worry most 'bout being killed When with a new guy Men on dates fear ridicule It's the sting they knew at school And it still applies [Refrain] Sometimes nothing is better Than anything made of words and letters And looks and gestures, blank is clean Blank is a peaceful, empty scene In your private self You make some room and have some space You wake your loves up one by one And make them safe And make them safe [Verse 3] Who knows how many in a group Feel the odd one out Who the joke's about? That feeling, that loneliness Hangs over like a curse Over like a thirst Where's this order coming from? Do you hear it like a drum From back in time? [Outro] Though it's all around, I still wonder Why we can't move on, and we still bear arms And we still make fun out of anyone Picture a worksite bar of clockout drinking And then go inside, do you feel that vibe? Something makes me think someone wants to fight There's a drive to quell what we hate in ourselves If it's in the Bible, then you know it's old And if it's in nature, then it's been foretold That a slice of our numbers will feel this way It's not somethin' we discuss between guys who are straight And then I looked up, "Was Fred Phelps gay?" But I found no answer, so then who's to say? But only self-hatred could explain his rage There's a special Hell that we build for ourselves And it's handed down in homes and playgrounds