What you're looking for is never what you find. Nothing ever seems to turn out right. Still you run around, still searching on these long indifferent streets for a lover or some cover to protect you from the heat that you feel inside. Inflamed since you learned to cry. Ever since you learned to walk you ran away. You kept running 'til you couldn't feel your legs. Now you slum around this drunked town, pawn shops and titty bars. Telling tales of just how far you got but they all know who you are, yeah you're not so great. You were just early out of the gate. There's a portrait of your mom when she was young. Her face was shining brightly as the Sun. The son who got away from her, but came back home again to find a woman wrecked with all this love she couldn't give but you know she did. You just couldn't feel it then. I found this birthday card from this lady I used to know. It said, "Boy, you're really starting to get old." She was the mother of my mother and I knew just what she meant. She'd been through it before, she knew with all of this resentment. There comes regret. I just hadn't gotten there yet. Nothing ever seems to turn out right. No, nothing ever seems to turn out right, so I'll leave it at this, my deepest regrets.