baby, I

would have given anything to protect you 

from that belt buckle blue,

would've swallowed that November day

and your father, too.

if only I'd known what he was 

doing to you, if only I knew

about the snap crack whip of his

belt buckle blue and the way

his winter would strike you 

perhaps I see now that you

were covered in bruises,

your back an indigo hue,

but your eyes had become a belt buckle blue 

and mine filled with stars ages before

I ever came to love you.

Your German hair,

and eyes, too,

his whiskey breath heavy,

messy with belt buckle blue

as you try and save your sister, and you,

she was white frost snowflake blond 

you know better than love, 

but you let yourself grow fond.

When your youngest sister died,

she was belt buckle blue,

and it was in that moment you knew,

winter would last an eternity for

you.

there's blood in that fair blonde hair

of hers,

eyes wide open, more grey than his stunning

belt buckle blue,

Oh, what's a broken son to do? 

you wear no jacket on these ice cold

days,

and relish in your fingers turning belt buckle blue.

whats the difference, baby,

if Daddy's doing it to you?

i could've swept you away from him,

preserved that delicate skinny boy skinny health 

but I cannot save you from yourself.