sleeping with the past

i sat waiting in that broad room
nursing the child that i thought was mine
while you are roaming around the streets
entataining other man outside

i gave you my soul and love but was not enough
i could have reached the sky and get you the moon
why all this time you did not tell me i was not the father
why toucher me with hurtfull words

everytime you come calling me a useless fool
but night and day i could sleep raising the child
all this time i was raising it for another man
how could you brake me this way

i had to find out by an email that the child was not mine
you could have thought i was going to die
but the last laugh will be mine
i am flashing this child down the drane

you will feel like a knife cut you into two
the tears that fall from my eyes will rip something
if i raised her know one is going to have her
even you and the father child bye bye . . . . .