1915

A baby's born
Her father's not around
He's got a job, his hands are worn down
The baby's brother, one year older
Waits outside as it's getting colder on this April afternoon

She bore the mark of a half-broken heart
And the doctor said 'my, how strange'
Kathy never wanted a child

Baby girl, these tears won't be your last
As they soak into your blanket
I'm afraid you're bound for tragedy

So we'll take you home and lay you down to sleep..
To dream of ways to get out of this place
While your father drinks and your mother cries
You won't be the first to die

Baby girl, these tears won't be your last
As they soak into your blanket
I'm afraid you're bound for tragedy