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My hands are rough, my timing’s always late
I paint across the line and hesitate
I used to tear the paper, start again
Now I keep the crease as proof of where I’ve been
My window frame is slightly out of square
My curtain rope is tangled, I don’t care
My bed is messy but it holds me fine
I give up perfect — this day right here is mine
My favorite painting hangs a little low
The frame is tilted, the corner shows
I used to think the frame had to be true
Now I love the tilt — it’s part of my view
My favorite painting hangs a little low
The frame is tilted, the corner shows
The tilt is where I learned to call it mine
No corner needs a perfect line
My window frame is slightly out of square
My curtain rope is tangled, I don’t care
My bed is messy but it holds me fine
I give up perfect — this day right here is mine
My favorite painting hangs a little low
The frame is tilted, the corner shows
I used to think the frame had to be true
Now I love the tilt — it’s part of my view
My favorite painting hangs a little low
The frame is tilted, the corner shows
The tilt is where I learned to call it mine
No corner needs a perfect line