He's a crystal glass sitting on the kitchen table,
and he's sliding off 'cause the legs are too unstable.
So he shatters on the floor,
like so many times before,
the boy weeps.

Now I tell him to pick himself up and get on the table,
and he tells me he can't 'cause the legs are too unstable.
But he's just too small,
that's really all,
holding him back.

So I tell him to be the legs for the kitchen table,
'cause I didn't do my job and I couldn't be his savior.
I tried to hold him up,
but I let him down,
and I can't bear to tell him that it's my fault he's on the ground.