| When you call that orphanage home
|
| You’ve settled for one step above «alone»
|
| Inside you, I think it’s well known
|
| There’s a fight strong enough to draw and quarter your soul
|
| So let go
|
| The irony of your foster home isn’t lost on me, and I’m not alone
|
| When you’re out of the state
|
| When he’s bruising your face
|
| Who’s there to comfort you when you’ve lost your way?
|
| The poison apple doesn’t fall far from the fucking tree
|
| Assume the barrel is rotten, and so you pick up and leave
|
| How could you dig up your roots so fucking easily?
|
| The poison apple doesn’t fall far from the fucking tree
|
| Assume the barrel is rotten, and so you pick up and leave
|
| How could you dig up your roots so fucking easily?
|
| When you call that orphanage home
|
| You’ve settled for one step above «alone»
|
| Inside you, I think it’s well known
|
| There’s a fight strong enough to draw and quarter your soul
|
| The irony of your foster home isn’t lost on me, and I’m not alone
|
| When you’re out of the state
|
| When he’s bruising your face
|
| Who’s there to comfort you when you’ve lost your way?
|
| The poison apple doesn’t fall far from the fucking tree
|
| Assume the barrel is rotten, and so you pick up and leave
|
| How could you dig up your roots so fucking easily? |