Round the Block Again

Round the block again, meter running on my pride. Little brother on the other side, and I keep driving by. Say I'm sorry, let the word come off my tongue, But I turn the wheel and the word stays locked and the years roll on. He was the one who carried my bag up the hill when I was small. He took the blame for the broken fence and never once said my name. The last thing I threw at him was a door and a hard word.