Boys

My eyes fell through the glass, can't make it up this time My hands are young and fast, color outside the lines You'll tear your mother's seam if you don't cradle me They'll show no sympathy for boys who cry in C O My eyes fell through the glass, can't make it up this time My hands are young and fast, color outside the lines You'll tear your mother's seam if you don't cradle me They'll show no sympathy for boys who cry in C Ah-ooh

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