Model Son - Steve Skaith Band
Written by：Steve Skaith
I grew up with a scorpion beside me
Sting in my rib cage the moment I drew air
Within his means
Was nothing he denied me
But nothing was all we'd ever share
I couldn't be
A model son
Models have no self motivation
They ride little trains
Endless tracks
I had my own route
My own destination
In kidd or blood he claimed a distant cousin
Shipping lumber tramp steam out of jacksonville
He showed me reefs and hitches by the dozen
But the knots that he tied in me
They're tighter
Still
I couldn't be a
Model son
Models have no self motivation
They ride little trains on endless tracks
I had my own route my own destination
I couldn't be
A model son
Models learn no self preservation
They live by grace on feet of clay
Needed my own rock to tangle with temptation
But tempted stung to action
Leaving home and stung some more
We have danced it down the decades
Mother father
Mother
Son and squaw
I grew up with a scorpion beside me
Sting in my rib cage the moment I drew air
Tipped in ink
Indelibly he signed me
The blue print of another son
Somewhere
I couldn't be
A model son
Models have no self motivation
They ride little trains
Endless tracks
I had my own route my own destination
I couldn't be
A model son
Models learn no self preservation
They live by grace on feet of clay
Needed my own rock to tangle with temptation
I couldn't be a model son
