Crooked

Crooked

I’ve got crooked teeth

But only on the bottom

With a stiff lower lip

You’d hardly know I got em

I’ve got a stiff upper lip

About my blackest whites

I’m able to survive the day

And not cry through the night

Now I can keep on covering

Or I can cast the blame

I can claim pure motives

But still the fact remains

                

I could compare with others
Convince myself I’m fine

But no matter how I read myself

There’s still a bottom line

I’m crooked