love turns to anguish
as hurt turns to language
the misunderstanding is stitched in the cloth
the clothes god gave us
they're toothened to save us
there's holes in the pockets where the talents are lost
no one's good at love except for babies
it's a survival skill you lose with time
you might love books or boats or films or football baby
they're all survival skills when children bond
there was no garden when i was a child
so i learned what was edible from the toxic and wild
now i sow seeds
now i pull weeds
now i pay tithes though the lord prefers my brothers
no one's good at love except for babies
it's a survival skill you lose with time
you might love trucks or trees the moon or music maybe
they're all survival skills when children bond
no one's any good at love
except for babies