| Lately I’ve been glaring into mirrors picking myself apart
|
| You’d think at my age I’d thought of something better to do
|
| Than making insecurity into a full time job
|
| Making insecurity into an art
|
| And I fear my life will be over
|
| And I will have never lived in unfettered
|
| Always glaring into mirrors
|
| Mad, I don’t look better
|
| But now here is this tiny baby
|
| And they say she looks just like me
|
| And she is smiling at me with that present infant glee
|
| Yes, and I would defend to the ends of the earth
|
| Her perfect right to be, be, be, be
|
| So I’m beginning to see some problems
|
| With the ongoing work of my mind
|
| And I’ve got myself a new mantra
|
| It says don’t forget to have a good time
|
| Don’t let the sellers of stuff power enough to rob you of your grace
|
| Love is all over the place
|
| There’s nothing wrong with your face
|
| Love is all over the place
|
| There’s nothing wrong with your face |