I'm sorry, Mother, you raised a thief I've stolen everything from hearts to dirty sheets I've made a mess of things but I've always come clean I'm sorry, Mother, it's just the way it has to be I'm not ashamed, I am not ashamed I'm sorry, Father, that I grew up I'm sorry, Father, I was never good enough But I loved you as much as any son could love a fuck-up You couldn't love me back for who I was I am not ashamed, I am not ashamed I've played the hand I was dealt And I'm proud of how I've felt Proud of how it all turned out I played the hand I was dealt And I'm proud of how I felt Proud of how it all turned out But how's it all gonna turn out? I guess I'll, I guess I'll write a letter Dear Mom and Dad Here's a letter from that accident you had I'm not that bad I've gotta purpose, and it's worth it I can promise you that But these tattoos won't wash off And I won't stop hating cops I can't give up the drinks and drugs But I'm saying this with love Sincerely yours, your only son