When they ******* up,
You'd want to run away,
Run a far, never to turn back,
Or leave bread crumbs behind.
For when they ******* up
The scars run deep,
The memories better left repressed,
And the very idea makes you sick.
But you live with it,
Twist it, and turn it,
And feel life with it,
For some day
We'd have to find our way back home.