He`s barely awake He`s never learned how to live He knows how to take Doesn`t know how to give and it bothers him more than he likes to admit as he strolls in the rain with his cigarette
He was born to a mother, or so he was told, who wanted her freedom before she grew old He was pushed in the corner and forced in the mold Put up on the block, he was auctioned and sold
He curses the weather Says he don`t need the rain He expects to hurt others and not feel the pain He can`t conceive of ever giving any more than he gain I guess he and I are just one and the same
I guess he and I are just one and the same
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