Box Room Survivor

The oldest grand child on one side, the third oldest on the other
My parents call me 'the bastard tenant’; my sister just calls me brother
Resigned to my four tiny walls, a prison known as home
I dream of getting out of here, to pastures new to roam.

Mother is a manic mess, worrying only about money
Neglecting those who love her most, sadly isn't funny
Father is a piece of shit, a total waste of breath
My hatred for my heritage will surely surpass death.

The elders of the family are hard to reach, put off by their own kin
A punishment I've had to bear, take it on the chin
One Nan is barred from the house, the other is not welcome
Granddads visits from across the city are honestly rare and seldom.

The time will come though soon enough, when I can leave this place,
To find a sanctuary of my own, quell misery from my face.
And raise a family of my own, live life and not look back
At the horrid hate-fuelled habitat that sent me off the track

One good thing did come about, from living day to day,
In a house where no one cared at all, about what anyone had to say
I know that it won't be the same, when I become a dad
When the kids are running round and round and driving me fucking mad

I will give them love and lots of care, like a good dad should,
And make them proud everyday, that they share my blood
And when I'm old I can look back and say that I did well
At being what I wanted to be, a solider who survived hell.