Practice Makes Perfect

So sweet I can hardly speak
Due to such trauma in my teeth
But your body language is telling me
That you're worth the pain

So weak I can hardly keep
Shaky legs holding up my feet
But your body language is telling me
That I'm not to blame

Practice makes perfect
Practice makes perfect sense

I've become what a mother wouldn't want in a son
And I have done a few things I regret
But practice makes perfect
Practice makes perfect sense to me

Wake up at first light, hearing you calling out
For your criminal clothing that fled the scene
Upon being ripped free

Conversation ensued
And I wanna do so many things to you
Sip after sip, you insist you're a hit
Sip after sip, yeah, I swear I can feel it

Practice makes perfect
Practice makes perfect sense

I've become what a mother wouldn't want in a son
And I have done a few things I regret
I've become what a mother wouldn't want in a son
And I have done what a mother wouldn't want
What a mother wouldn't want in a son

Practice makes perfect
Practice makes perfect sense
Practice makes perfect
Practice makes perfect sense

I've become what a mother wouldn't want in a son
And I have done a few things I regret
I've become what a mother wouldn't want in a son
And I have done what a mother wouldn't want
What a mother wouldn't want in a son
Practice makes perfect
Practice makes perfect sense
Practice makes perfect
Practice makes perfect sense to me