Letras
Are these things just
Scary by default
Don't let them
Tear you by
The faults you've outlined
It's about time
You lost
A practice in self-sabotage
You picked up from your
Father's side
Along with force of habit
Habitats you took for granted
Before the sulk
Of 1997
Bourgeois
Fold my love upon itself
And watch as all my layers
Brush off
Keep track
But don't keep up with the
Latest trends
I wish I'd known her
Back when Birch Run
Was her home address
I'm the last son
Of my mother's carriage
Last and probably
Least attractive
To those out of my reach
My acting out
It serves
A higher purpose
Now
She wrapped me
In her winter jacket
Sat with me on violet painted
Slats of evergreen
Cut to size
The family tree
Is her and I
I'm the eighth boy
Of my brother's parents
Middle child
But left of center
Outskirts
How are hours slipping by
The colors change
But only I
Can
See them
She wrapped me
In her winter jacket
Sat with me on Lilac painted
Slats of cherry tree
My unborn child
I fear
May hold my feet to her
Fire
And I
Wish I
Could
Take
Back
All the
Times
I
Raised
My
Voice to
My
Mother