Pent up heart, father of stone Fortified with muscle, stuck in baritone Glimpses in mirrors, a shell he doesn't recognize Reverberating with calls from a child inside Let me cry Like I did when I was five Before the well ran dry Manning up, winning the bread A pressure cooker, coming to a head Indoctrinated against moving his hips For fear that it could attract another man's lips Let me cry Like I did when I was five Before the well ran dry A voice to listen to Left behind in your youth What kind of man were you Before the well ran dry A voice to listen to Left behind in your youth What kind of man were you Before the well ran dry