What are you going to do this time?
are you going to cry? I wish you had
a better mother, more loving kin
around every corner turning less sad.
if you did and I'm not saying it's true
but if you did I'd be lying next to you
wasted you would call it to my face
call up places and numbers and tales
of great expectations, disastrous fails
and you're shaking your head in a rhythmic beat
and your eyes tell me words that no ear lock could keep
and I look at your mouth and it's spewing, engorged
with a furnace of foul weathered truth overforged
I'm deaf to it all, though I know I've done wrong.
the way that I am makes good people fall down.
the stone made of steps hide the parts you won't find.
What are you going to do this time?
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