My old man taught me
Closure is in the bottom of a bottle.
Son, women don't feel love like men.
They manipulate, lie and bleed you dry.
My momma taught me
Closure is in never promising anything and
Never staying anywhere for too long
Because its always important to know
Where you're coming from
30 years down and I learned my lessons well;
I bounced from place to place
And bed to bed on my way to become a man
With a moral compass that doesn't always point north
Ever since my first baby momma taught me
Closure is in another man's balls and
That one swallow can ruin a marriage
And turn a family into a broken home.
In the end, nothing else matters
As long as my kid is made of rubber
With a bounce back that erases all my mistakes
So I can sleep at night
My head so full of dreams
Borm from the regrets I never wanted
After my second wife taught me
Closure is in the honesty
After it's been twisted and
Sharpened to a poisoned point
All to make sure the truth won't set me free
But rather shackle me to the whimsy of madness
Maybe my old man was right after all
Now that the bottom of the bottle taught me
Closure is in a line
White, on the bathroom sink tomorrow morning
With my head pounding the rhythm
Of the headboard
Smacking the wall
Of last night's mistake
And I tell myself I just need a little something
To make it through the day
Running from the voice in my head
Screaming shame, reminding me
With choice comes consequence
With love comes hate
With getting real, comes acceptance.
Because it was my husband who taught me
Closure is in breaking cycles
Being different is what separates man from beast
And sloppy seconds taste best when served used
Which leaves the moral of the story:
Life is life.
Closure is in learning to live it.