Broken Bell

I sit and do a drawing

A portrait of my dad

I should really visit him

Before he is dead

'Cause we are getting old

Our cells just won't divide

Like they're told

I'm not really good

At this kind of thing

Should I take the advice of the graffiti on the wall

Telling me to go suck it?

Or should I listen to voices ringing in my head

Like a broken bell?

There might be someone nice

On the other side looking for more than just a good time

But I don't think it's right

To expect that the universe was born with such a good temper

I sit and do a drawing

A portrait of my mom

As a child

I wish we could just get along

Like we used to

'Cause we are getting older

Our cells just won't divide

Like they told us

And I'm not very good

At this kind of thing

No, I'm not very good

At this