His words are quiet like stains are
On a table cloth washed in a river
Stains that are trying to cover, for each other
Or at least blend in with the pattern
Good is better than perfect
Scrub til your fingers are bleeding
And I'm crying for things that I tell others to do without crying
On a table cloth washed in a river
Stains that are trying to cover, for each other
Or at least blend in with the pattern
Good is better than perfect
Scrub til your fingers are bleeding
And I'm crying for things that I tell others to do without crying
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