| Tell my own mother her son is a failure
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| His heart is too cold to love anyone but himself
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| It’s like stabbing an icicle straight through your chest
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| Your whole body shivers as it coarses your blood
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| And your quivering throat keeps
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| Choking on those words
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| Mama i tried a thousand times
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| I’m frozen to the core
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| Your son is a glorious mess
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| Who wrecks anything he adores
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| But deep in his center he swears
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| There’s a candle just waiting to burn. |
| and melt
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| So who’s gonna burn him
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| Yeah who’s gonna break him
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| Into a thousand pieces
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| Melting over flames of perfection
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| I once felt its warmth
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| But it left me shivering in the dark
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| Mama i tired a thousand times
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| The pieces wouldn’t fit
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| Son, love is a punch in the eye
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| It’s a sudden and swift surprise. |
| i
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| T’s not a candle, its not waiting to burn
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| So baby, just wait your turn
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| And when it hits you
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| You’ll see through rose colored apathy;
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| Through the blues that bruise can leave
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| Was it really worth the wait? |