Sometimes Is Every Time
As a boy I used to wonder all the time
What the hell is wrong with me?
Is this what I have been given?
Is this what everybody gets?
I would sit and look out my window and think
I wish I was that boy
He looks like he is having fun
He knows how to talk to people
I wish I knew how to talk to people
What makes the maker the mold?
Fifteen years later it dawned upon me that
There was nothing wrong with me
I only had to break the cup a few times and teach it to mend
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