| Song | Grace |
| Artist | Sage Francis |
| Album | Copper Gone |
| [Hook:] | |
| Patience is a virtue, virtue is a grace | |
| Grace is a little girl who wouldn’t wash her face | |
| Grace is a virtue, virtue is a mean | |
| Between two extremes, one of excess, one of deficiencies | |
| Patience is a virtue, virtue is a dirty stain | |
| Cleanliness is next to godliness and isn’t worth the pain | |
| Grace is a virtue, virtue of the pageant | |
| And this is not a love ballad | |
| [Verse 1:] | |
| You suggested Lithium to get me better again | |
| That is unless if we, uhm, get together again | |
| But that ain’t gonna happen, never again | |
| Send my well wishes to your nutritionist | |
| Your dietician, your pharmacist | |
| Your personal trainer and your accomplices | |
| Your partners in thought crime | |
| Your criminal group thinking doctors online | |
| There is a difference between what is and isn’t | |
| Business and friendship | |
| Parental assistance and an assistant | |
| A permanent solution and a quick-fix | |
| A fit body and sound mind | |
| A hundred hour weeks, and dangerous amounts of downtime | |
| You got a lot to offer, but you’re not an author | |
| If I kill your persecution complex that don’t make you a martyr | |
| Drop the styrofoam cross, you can’t walk on water | |
| You could use it for floatation, not a flying saucer | |
| You suggested professional help like I wasn’t mentally well | |
| What I was feeling wasn’t meant to be felt | |
| Duly noted, you’ll be quoted in the eulogy | |
| It’ll be passed off as poetry between you and me | |
| I know you know the difference between confession and conjecture | |
| Prosity and needing to be lectured to a meet up | |
| The student becomes the teacher, the son becomes a parent | |
| From a scab to teamster, the sun becomes apparent | |
| From a chemical imbalance to a litany of habits | |
| And this is not a love ballad | |
| [Verse 2:] | |
| You should drown me in that womanhood and teach me how to swim | |
| Beat me with my own hands and tie down my limbs | |
| Suffer for my sins or let me suffer from within | |
| But in the end this is not a love ballad | |
| We can battle with tattoos to cover up the bruises | |
| The first to show any sign of discomfort loses | |
| For the first time in a long time you’re not who my muse is | |
| And this is not a love ballad | |
| I’m not thirsty, I just got hungry eyes, you look appetizing | |
| And from a distant stare broken eye contact in disrepair | |
| Sometimes I disappear, but now you see me | |
| A part Irish goodbye, other part Harry Houdini | |
| Put my feet to the fire, I got Satan on my heels | |
| If it’s all about prestige, just wait for the reveal | |
| I got a new bag of tricks to turn, a new black magic woman bitch to burn | |
| So much for live and learn | |
| [Hook] | |
| [Outro:] | |
| Is a music box that haunts me from the top-shelf of the bedroom closet | |
| I don’t touch it, it just cuddles with my conscience | |
| I’m on constant guard, jittery the whole night | |
| Clinging the sheets because it sings to me slow like | |
| And that’s her song running through an hourglass | |
| Built with two wine bottles that I found in a flower patch | |
| Planting it in quicksand, refusing to sink fast | |
| Abusing me slow, I hear the music and I think back | |
| Before the fall, before the set up | |
| Before the interest in sex even developed | |
| I fell in love with distance as an ex’s best friend | |
| There used to be revenge, but i couldn’t see no end | |
| So I had to switch the lens in and focus on some flesh | |
| No more clinging to old threads |
| Hook: | |
| Patience is a virtue, virtue is a grace | |
| Grace is a little girl who wouldn' t wash her face | |
| Grace is a virtue, virtue is a mean | |
| Between two extremes, one of excess, one of deficiencies | |
| Patience is a virtue, virtue is a dirty stain | |
| Cleanliness is next to godliness and isn' t worth the pain | |
| Grace is a virtue, virtue of the pageant | |
| And this is not a love ballad | |
| Verse 1: | |
| You suggested Lithium to get me better again | |
| That is unless if we, uhm, get together again | |
| But that ain' t gonna happen, never again | |
| Send my well wishes to your nutritionist | |
| Your dietician, your pharmacist | |
| Your personal trainer and your accomplices | |
| Your partners in thought crime | |
| Your criminal group thinking doctors online | |
| There is a difference between what is and isn' t | |
| Business and friendship | |
| Parental assistance and an assistant | |
| A permanent solution and a quickfix | |
| A fit body and sound mind | |
| A hundred hour weeks, and dangerous amounts of downtime | |
| You got a lot to offer, but you' re not an author | |
| If I kill your persecution complex that don' t make you a martyr | |
| Drop the styrofoam cross, you can' t walk on water | |
| You could use it for floatation, not a flying saucer | |
| You suggested professional help like I wasn' t mentally well | |
| What I was feeling wasn' t meant to be felt | |
| Duly noted, you' ll be quoted in the eulogy | |
| It' ll be passed off as poetry between you and me | |
| I know you know the difference between confession and conjecture | |
| Prosity and needing to be lectured to a meet up | |
| The student becomes the teacher, the son becomes a parent | |
| From a scab to teamster, the sun becomes apparent | |
| From a chemical imbalance to a litany of habits | |
| And this is not a love ballad | |
| Verse 2: | |
| You should drown me in that womanhood and teach me how to swim | |
| Beat me with my own hands and tie down my limbs | |
| Suffer for my sins or let me suffer from within | |
| But in the end this is not a love ballad | |
| We can battle with tattoos to cover up the bruises | |
| The first to show any sign of discomfort loses | |
| For the first time in a long time you' re not who my muse is | |
| And this is not a love ballad | |
| I' m not thirsty, I just got hungry eyes, you look appetizing | |
| And from a distant stare broken eye contact in disrepair | |
| Sometimes I disappear, but now you see me | |
| A part Irish goodbye, other part Harry Houdini | |
| Put my feet to the fire, I got Satan on my heels | |
| If it' s all about prestige, just wait for the reveal | |
| I got a new bag of tricks to turn, a new black magic woman bitch to burn | |
| So much for live and learn | |
| Hook | |
| Outro: | |
| Is a music box that haunts me from the topshelf of the bedroom closet | |
| I don' t touch it, it just cuddles with my conscience | |
| I' m on constant guard, jittery the whole night | |
| Clinging the sheets because it sings to me slow like | |
| And that' s her song running through an hourglass | |
| Built with two wine bottles that I found in a flower patch | |
| Planting it in quicksand, refusing to sink fast | |
| Abusing me slow, I hear the music and I think back | |
| Before the fall, before the set up | |
| Before the interest in sex even developed | |
| I fell in love with distance as an ex' s best friend | |
| There used to be revenge, but i couldn' t see no end | |
| So I had to switch the lens in and focus on some flesh | |
| No more clinging to old threads |