Mathilda

[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