Mother saved your medals.
She put them in a box in her room.
Basket base and foot b____.
Plastic creatures from the county zoo.

She thinks about you often.
She has no idea you're rotten.
All the colours have run off and you have been exposed.
Now let me do the talking

With a hymn and a secret hid
Beneath a broken heart
Can you start, to pick up the pieces?
A hymn and a secret love
Beneath the bleachers wham, bam, Son of Sam
Pick up the pieces

Blessed by your genetics.
You possess a certin asthetic charm.
But something's disconnected.
And you're quite capable of causing harm.
Your malice is volcanic.
Your insecurity...t__anic.
Your mood is always manic, and I do suppose.
When you hear this song you'll have a tantrum.

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