Yes, it’s true, my family has had its hand
in the church’s food box a time or two–it’s true, love, it’s true.
Yes, it’s true, I live in this dilapidated trailer
on a hill; these are my broken windows,
my rusted doors, and my junked cars, too–it’s true, love, it’s true.
Yes, it’s true that I never took you home, love,
because I didn’t want you to see where I live,
and I never introduced you to my family, love,
because I didn’t want you to know all the things
that I’m trying to forgive.
Well, now that I have, love,
now that you have seen all that there is to see,
tell me, love, is it any kind of reflection of me?
Because I really need to know, love–is it any kind of reflection of me?