Lex ZaletaNo Man's Son (with Bret Alexander) Folk/Acoustic Rock/Americana

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The twisted tale of Charles Manson Bret Alexander, production and performance; Lex Zaleta, lyrics

The good die young, and Charles Manson is still with us

NO MAN’S SON He was born with no name, No parents to speak of. No wife that he could blame For his lifelong streak of Bad, bad breaks. The law gave him a home – A number and a cell in Which to sing his poems, Dwell on a felon’s Past mistakes. We all say, “Sorry, Charlie, You’re not the fortunate one, You’ll live and die in prison, You son of a no man’s son.” They tell him when to rise And when he can turn in. They look into his eyes And see witches burnin’ At the stake. He said he gave the poor What he ripped from the rich, Until his mystery tour Was ended by a snitch On the take. We all say, “Sorry, Charlie, You’re not the fortunate one, You’ll live and die in prison, You son of a no man’s son.” Now he’s up for parole Every couple of years; It seems his only goal Is to rekindle fear And heartache. When you see him on TV, Don’t begin to tremble. Look closely and you’ll see How his eyes resemble Eden’s snake’s. We all say, “Sorry, Charlie, You’re not the fortunate one, You’ll live and die in prison, You son of a no man’s son.” Copyright © 2002 Lex Zaleta x