A picture hangs in the hallway
of my mother on her wedding day
her french tipped fingers
hug and hold my arms
my hands rest reverently within the frame
and momma has her cheek against me head
as if everything will be okay
But I can still taste the wire
like my sister remembers the rain
I wear scars for you to see
scars on my sleeve
this my truth
my fears
my body
who I am
what I believe
I'm not a victim
but a man who learned to bleed
Scars for you to see
scars on my sleeve
this my truth
my fears
my body
who I am
And I remember your face
your face and your tears
oh and how he used to sweat
on those cold winter nights
as his hands would place braces and shake
he claimed it was caused by the anti-depressants
and this silver-lined guilt that rakes my voice
and chokes the sound
is because we never fucking talked about it
But I know I still taste the wire
like my sister remembers the rain
I wear scars for you to see
scars on my sleeve
this my truth
my fears
my body
who I am
what I believe
I'm not a victim
but a man who learned to bleed
Scars for you to see
scars on my sleeve
this my truth
my fears
my body
who I am
I'm a man not a victim
I wear my scars for you to see
scars on my sleeve
this my truth
my fears
my body
who I am
what I believe
I'm not a victim
but a man who learned to bleed
Scars for you to see
scars on my sleeve
this my truth
my fears
my body
who I am
I'm a man not a victim
a man not a victim
a man not a victim
a man not a victim
The Philly rock juggernaut's debut LP is finally here, an electric rallying cry led, as always, by Tina Halladay's powerful voice. Bandcamp New & Notable May 10, 2017
Long-running underground rocker Brian Vanderwerf is the heart and soul of these gritty songs that capture the scruffy spirit of the ’70s. Bandcamp New & Notable May 7, 2022