A cold day in hell, I feel goodnAt least I feel as good as real feels if real even feels goodnI think back to being a kid and getting my ass kickednAnd when I sold my soul to the devil to make me rap sicknnPage from Cage's brain, angels dust off the ungodlynRiding through my childhood and hit my six year old bodynBlack-out for second, pick my head up off the streetnLittle kid hands my face - its not me in the driver seatnnFather comes out screaming (Holy Shit!) drops the cigarettes and lighternScoops me up with his left arm, his right fist snuffed the drivernTakes me in the house, stops the blood from wandering outnIs this a dream or time travel? I ponder on the couchnnWalks in with a black bag, Chris, we're gonna play a game, alright?nWrap my rubber snake around his arm and made me pull it tightnHit himself with a spike, drew blood and pulled his mask downnMy hands blue until he let my arm go and he passed outnnAh...you know you're my little son, right?nI love you, you're my little son...nnErratic then gone, I go from manic to calmnWatching the yellow liquid dripping back out of his armnNo automatic alarm soundednTrying to wrap my six year old brain around itnWent in his pockets, took his money and couldn't count itnnWent to the front door but its locked, observe itnPulled up a chair to reach the dead boltnBut I'm too weak to turn itnGive it another try all the while still scoping himnNow I pan the room and see my escape in the open windownnScurry the floornClimb out, hang, then drop into the snownAnd my captor snatches me back upnChris, where you going?nnPulls me back into hellnStarts shaking me, to weaken menTo teachin' me to be a man by repeatedly beating mennI hope I grow up before I'm finished being stranglednI black out then wake up tied to the coffee tablenWith a jump rope cable to my ankle so I can't runnHe walks back in the roomnI need you help again, sonnnI'm gonna wrap this around my arm just like beforenYou pull the other endn[Slaps his arm to get his veins ready]nPull it tighter, pull it tighter!nAlright, let go! Let go Chris!!nUuuaaaghhhh...nYou have to take care of your mothernThis is an M16...I got this in the armynPrivate Murray...reporting...for...duty... nn