I don't think you know
What it's like to hold a million broken pieces
Of the brightest star of the universe
In your arms at eight in the morning
On the streets of New York City
Outside a woman's clinic.
She needed everything
And he just gave her
Four hundred ninety-eight dollars
And Sixteen sense.
That didn't absolve him from any responsibility.
A combo of a real life experience and The Front Bottoms' song Lone Star.