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I pressed the clay too hard, it fell apart
I cursed the wheel, I hated every start
I wanted every piece to align
But every attempt turned out a clumsy design
I let the wonky pot sit on the shelf
It stayed a little crooked, just itself
I poured the water in, it held the stream
And that misshapen thing became my dream
The clay pot that I keep has lopsided sides
It stands upon the shelf and still survives
I let the crooked parts just be my own
They are the map of all the ways I've grown
The clay pot that I keep has lopsided sides
It stands upon the shelf and still survives
I don't demand the cracks to close or heal
They are the seams that show the world is real
I let the wonky pot sit on the shelf
It stayed a little crooked, just itself
I poured the water in, it held the stream
And that misshapen thing became my dream
The clay pot that I keep has lopsided sides
It stands upon the shelf and still survives
I let the crooked parts just be my own
They are the map of all the ways I've grown
The clay pot that I keep has lopsided sides
It stands upon the shelf and still survives
I don't demand the cracks to close or heal
They are the seams that show the world is real
