[Intro] They used to call me Mathilda
My mama kept my hair long
I was more pretty than handsome
And I was not very strong
My voice was kinda high
Not a typical guy
They used to call me Mathilda
I was never sure why
I felt bad about it
But I didn't get mad
I got sad about it
But I was all that I had

[Instrumental Break] [Verse 1] Where's this order coming from? Do you hear it like a drum?
From back in time
Do you feel like who you are? Are you driven from afar?
Along for the ride
There's a manner in your town, there's no way to turn it 'round
Why even try?

[Refrain] Just kids, we have our tests
Look at your nails, is your palm out?
If you hold your hands unlike a man, it's not allowed
We start out young, it's too much fun to laugh out loud
We think we're free, but we don't see, our heads are bowed
Our heads are bowed

[Verse 2] I read somewhere that women will worry most 'bout being killed
When with a new guy
Men on dates, they ridicule, it's this thing they knew at school
And it still applies

[Refrain] Sometimes nothing is better
Than anything made of words in letters
And looks and gestures, blank is clean
Blank is a peaceful, empty scene
In your private self, you make some room and have some space
You wake your loves up one by one and make them safe
And make them safe

[Verse 3] Who knows how many in a pool
Feel the odd one out? Who the joke's about?
That feeling, that loneliness
Hangs over like a curse, over like the first
Where's this order coming from? Do you hear it like a drum?
From back in time

[Outro] Though it's all around, I still wonder
Why we can't move on, and we still bear arms
And we still make fun out of anyone
Picture a worksite bar of clock-eyed drinking
And then go inside, do you feel that vibe?
Something makes me think someone wants to fight
There's a drive to quell what we hate in ourselves
If it's in the Bible, then you know it's old
And if it's in nature, then it's been foretold
That a slice of our numbers will feel this way
It's not somethin' we discuss between guys who are straight
And then I looked up, "Was Fred Phelps gay?"
But I found no answers, so then who's to say?
But only self-hatred could explain his rage
There's a special Hell that we built for ourselves
And it's handed down in homes and playgrounds