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