by The Raconteurs
I'm not sure if there's a point to this story
But I'm going to tell it again
So many other people try to tell the tale
Not one of them knows the end
It was a junk-house in South Carolina
Held a boy the age of ten
Along with his older brother Billy
And a mother and her boyfriend
Who was a triple loser with some blue tattoos
That were given to him when he was young
And a drunk temper that was easy to lose
Thank god he didn't own a gun
Well, Billy woke up in the back of his truck
Took a minute to open his eyes
He took a peep into the back of the house
And found himself a big surprise
He didn't see his brother but there was his mother
With her red-headed head in her hands
While the boyfriend had his gloves wrapped around an old priest
Trying to choke the man
Ah Ah Ahhh...
Billy looked up from the window to the truck
Threw up, and had to struggle to stand
He saw that red-necked bastard with a hammer
Turn the priest into a shell of a man
The priest was putting up the fight of his life
But he was old and he was bound to lose
The boyfriend hit as hard as he could
And knocked the priest right down to his shoes
Well, now Billy knew but never actually met
The preacher lying there in the room
He heard himself say, "That must be my daddy"
Then he knew what he was gonna do
Billy got up enough courage, took it up
And grabbed the first blunt thing he could find
It was a cold, glass bottle of milk
That got delivered every morning at nine
Ah Ah Ahhh...
Billy broke in and saw the blood on the floor, and
He turned around and put the lock on the door
He looked dead into the boyfriend's eye
His mother was a ghost, too upset to cry, then
He took a step toward the man on the ground
From his mouth trickled out a little audible sound
He heard the boyfriend shout, "Get out!"
And Billy said, "Not till I know what this is all about"
"Well, this preacher here was attacking your mama"
But Billy knew just who was starting the drama
So Billy took dead aim at his face
And smashed the bottle on the man who left his dad in disgrace, and
The white milk dripped down with the blood, and the
Boyfriend fell down dead for good
Right next to the preacher who was gasping for air
And Billy shouted, "Daddy, why'd you have to come back here?"
His mama reached behind the sugar and honey, and
Pulled out an envelope filled with money
"Your daddy gave us this," she collapsed in tears
"He's been paying all the bills for years"
"Mama, let's put this body underneath the trees
and put Daddy in the truck and head to Tennessee"
Just then, his little brother came in
Holding the milk man's hat and a bottle of gin singing,
La la la la, la la la la, yeah
Well now you heard another side to the story
But you wanna know how it ends?
If you must know, the truth about the tale
Go and ask the milkman
But I'm going to tell it again
So many other people try to tell the tale
Not one of them knows the end
It was a junk-house in South Carolina
Held a boy the age of ten
Along with his older brother Billy
And a mother and her boyfriend
Who was a triple loser with some blue tattoos
That were given to him when he was young
And a drunk temper that was easy to lose
Thank god he didn't own a gun
Well, Billy woke up in the back of his truck
Took a minute to open his eyes
He took a peep into the back of the house
And found himself a big surprise
He didn't see his brother but there was his mother
With her red-headed head in her hands
While the boyfriend had his gloves wrapped around an old priest
Trying to choke the man
Ah Ah Ahhh...
Billy looked up from the window to the truck
Threw up, and had to struggle to stand
He saw that red-necked bastard with a hammer
Turn the priest into a shell of a man
The priest was putting up the fight of his life
But he was old and he was bound to lose
The boyfriend hit as hard as he could
And knocked the priest right down to his shoes
Well, now Billy knew but never actually met
The preacher lying there in the room
He heard himself say, "That must be my daddy"
Then he knew what he was gonna do
Billy got up enough courage, took it up
And grabbed the first blunt thing he could find
It was a cold, glass bottle of milk
That got delivered every morning at nine
Ah Ah Ahhh...
Billy broke in and saw the blood on the floor, and
He turned around and put the lock on the door
He looked dead into the boyfriend's eye
His mother was a ghost, too upset to cry, then
He took a step toward the man on the ground
From his mouth trickled out a little audible sound
He heard the boyfriend shout, "Get out!"
And Billy said, "Not till I know what this is all about"
"Well, this preacher here was attacking your mama"
But Billy knew just who was starting the drama
So Billy took dead aim at his face
And smashed the bottle on the man who left his dad in disgrace, and
The white milk dripped down with the blood, and the
Boyfriend fell down dead for good
Right next to the preacher who was gasping for air
And Billy shouted, "Daddy, why'd you have to come back here?"
His mama reached behind the sugar and honey, and
Pulled out an envelope filled with money
"Your daddy gave us this," she collapsed in tears
"He's been paying all the bills for years"
"Mama, let's put this body underneath the trees
and put Daddy in the truck and head to Tennessee"
Just then, his little brother came in
Holding the milk man's hat and a bottle of gin singing,
La la la la, la la la la, yeah
Well now you heard another side to the story
But you wanna know how it ends?
If you must know, the truth about the tale
Go and ask the milkman
As I was listening to this song on the way home I realized something. Through this well written, aesthetically pleasing song Jack White has managed to expose his listeners to themes that intense and troubling as well as (unfortunately) not uncommon: domestic violence, blended families, questioning one's identity and the lengths people go to protect their families. In essence, drama.
Yes, he does this in an incredibly exaggerated/artistic way and no, I don't think it was on purpose but I find it interesting nonetheless. I've always been a proponent of raising awareness around emotional and mental health. Especially when it comes to early intervention/prevention. I feel like if we, as a society, started placing as much emphasis on mental health as we do on physical health the world would be vastly improved.
Inter-generational trauma is a real thing. We've all known someone (maybe ourselves) who has been affected by "issues" their caregivers have experienced. Hell, everyone has issues for one reason or another. Why is it such a big deal? Why is there still this stigma around getting support around emotional needs? If we got it through out thick skulls that mental health "disorders" aren't this weird, unknowable, abyss from which we will suffer, then maybe,MAYBE we could start working towards a societal-wide shift towards a more tolerant society.
We aren't intolerant of people who have diabetes, cancer or MS. We don't blame them or their parents (for the most part) for causing the disease. No. We give them information, educate them on doing what they can to help themselves, guide them towards a healthier path. We COULD do the same with mental health but aren't. At least, not at the same scale as say, Kaiser pushing their "wellness program" bullshit. Does one psychiatrist visit every 6 weeks sound like adequate mental health? How about only having group therapy covered by insurance? Or having to wait 2 hours in an emergency room for the on-call psychiatrist? No? Then WHY aren't more people complaining? There are enough people who have Kaiser insurance who have experiences the lack of quality in mental health care and yet we remain silent. Bullshit. This apathy WILL kill us.
