There's a place within me that's dying to break...
Far deeper than anyone can imagine to see...

Give me a hint,
Just one little clue...

I think I'm getting used to it
This is how it will always be...

I know that it's pointless
This thing they call love...

I wrote a poem called Mom and this is a reply to...
I'm sorry...

I met a dancing pickle
He told me his name was Tom...

You're the only one I want
You're the only one I need...

Drowning in my sorrows
Lost in all my fears...

I look at the picture
Of us together...

You don't really love me
I know it's not true...

I told you I liked you
I told you I cared...

It's your fault, Mom
It's your fault that I'm writing this...