The black smoke crept in
To our apartment
It sooted the windows
And yellowed our curtains
And I took you driving
Through Monrovia burning
And we smoked on foothill
As we took it all in
And my trust is shattered
Am I less of a man
If I left you too soon
Is that blood on my hands
Something was not right
I drove home straight through the night
And we walked hand in hand
To 7-Eleven
This distance between us
You won't say what it is
I'll let anything slide
If you say any name but his
And my love discarded
Am I less of a man
My hands are clean
I have done what I can
And my children snuffed out
Am I less of a man
If I let you three down
Is their blood on my hands