the piano is not firewood yet but a heart can't be helped and it gathers regret. someday you'll wake up and feel a great pain and you'll miss every toy you've ever owned. you'll want to go back, you'll wish you were small, nothing can slow the crying. you'll take the clock off of your wall and you'll wish it was lying. love what you have and you'll have more love. you're not dying, everyone knows you're going to love... though there's still no cure for crying