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