How many left turns will it take
before you make it right
All the rugs you pull away
To make me less upright?
You can’t accept the truth you see
With blinder glasses on
But still you argue once again
The way so proven wrong.
The lies you tell so plain to me
And spoken to my face
Have let me know how easily
You act with such disgrace
No bearing of a right or not
Your mind is truly set
Favoritism is your choice,
The only certain bet.
One day, maybe, soon enough
You’ll lie awake in bed
And count the times you hit replay
On all the things you said
It may just prove to be the time
You realize all you’ve done
Lonely will that hour be…
Longing for your son.
Let the words out 