It Doesn't Matter Who My Father Was;

I Am So Imperfect, Can You Love Me When Really My Soul Is Deformed? Will You Love Me Anyhow?

The Soul Was Not Cured, It Was As Full As A Clothes Closet Of Dresses That Did Not Fit.

All The Oxygen Of The World Was In Them. All The Feet Of The Babies Of The World Were In Them. All The Crotches Of The Angels Of The World Were In Them. All The Morning Kisses Of Philadelphia Were In Them.

I See Myself As One Would See Another. I Have Been Cut In Two.

Yet Love Enters My Blood Like An I.v., Dripping In Its Little White Moments.