Blanc Says

And they’re sitting there
Perfect cigarettes and made up To impress them here
Fighting fear and faced the climb up Trapped atop the bars
Teased and tortured, never let up A grip to last for years
Quickly old but never grown up Abysmal sunny day
Kicking down the cluttered sidewalk
Stops the childrens' play
Interrupts with screaming frenzy
Crush the little dolls
Shards of plastic parts sent flying
Continues on the way
Mouths agape, left to recover
Blanc looks quite the same
Just as pale and slightly older
Her uncle’s gun
Every morning polished metal
Even for the fun
Or possibly to end their prison
It’s no secret there
Quite like Hank to be it fatal
But the joke’s on them
Not a means to end her prison
Blanc still acts the same
All dismayed, her parents frightened
All that’s left for me is Someday, maybe