LYRIC

When you call that orphanage home
you've settled for one step above alone inside you
I think it's well known there's a fight
strong enough to draw and quarter your soul, so let go

The irony of your foster home isn't lost on me, and I'm not alone
Who's there to comfort you when he's bruising your face?
Who's there to comfort you when you've lost your way?

The poison apple doesn't fall far from the fucking tree
Assume the barrel is rotten and so you pick up and leave
How could you dig up your roots so fucking easily?
The poison apple doesn't fall far from the fucking tree

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