The Father, The Son, and the Homosexual Single Parent

They called it faith They called it fair They called it resolution I call it shit when we were alone They simply paid no mind You'd suffered such a crime Then there you were A mother way too soon They said you'd made your bed Then they filled your head With the sound The bells of a cathedral You say you're still ashamed I wish that I could make it stop Like salt thrown over shoulder A coin tossed in a fountain Not unlike a knock on wood You said only in as much As you were sensitive to touch Did you feel like a human when they spoke And so you hid your life All bottled up inside Just enough to make Your angels choke You took all you heard And tried to make them your own words Only deafened by the sound The bells of a cathedral Now you hate yourself and I wish that I could make it fucking stop All my life Surrounded, unfounded Teachings thought as threats I won't forget