A sum of your parts.
Half your mother half your father
Your father half his father half his mother.
I'm a quarter classy lady and a quarter junkyard drunk
But that doesn't tell me who I have to be.
I've seen the examples,
Seen the pits they fell into.
I knew I couldn’t follow on those treacherous paths,
I’ve got my mother’s giant feet not made for tight rope walking.
So I’m burning half this family tree down.
I know where my roots lay but I don't want to scale those branches.
I'll stick with the sweet sticky fruit side.
We may not be perfect
But it’s better than that wasp’s nest they built.