the first thing i remember was the friction in the room and that brown
spinet piano that never played in tune the cruel impatient tyrant, the
frustrated malcontent, the need to find the pieces, and the absence of
cement no one ever told me about the right way to love and no one ever
showed me what we're supposed to be made of so don't be too forthright
about what you think that i should be and i'll willingly accept your
low opinion of me the last thing i remember was the slamming of the
door and the resonance of my imperfection broke the silence once more
the selfish angry bastard who doesn't want to hear i tried to learn
compassion you turned the other ear the worn out broken record who
doesn't fit the mold the righteous independent, the mood so harsh and
cold momma never told me about the right way to love and daddy never
showed me what we're supposed to be made of so don't be too forthright
about what you think that i should be and i'll willingly accept your
low opinion of me
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