Thirty-eight Years Old

twelve men broke loose in seventy-three from millhaven maximum security twelve pictures lined up across the front page

seems the mounties had a summertime war to wage the chief told the people they had nothing to fear said, "the last thing they

wanna do, is hang around here" they mostly came from towns with long french names but one of the dozen was a hometown

shame

same pattern on the table same clock on the wall been one seat empty, eighteen years in all freezing slow time, away from the

world he's 38 years old, never kissed a girl

we were sitting round the table, heard the telephone ring father said he'd tell em if he saw anything heard the tap on my

window in the middle of the night held back the curtains for my older brother mike

see my sister got raped, so a man got killed local boy went to prison, man's buried on the hill folks went back to normal when

they closed the case but they still stare at their shoes when they pass our place

my mother cried, "the horror has finally ceased!" he whispered, "yeah, for the time being at least" over her shoulder, on the

squad car megaphone said, "let's go michael, son, we're taking you home"

chorus