Oh, Wesley, oh, Wesley
why do you cry?
For if you had as much confidence
as tear in your eye,
you'd know that you're
handsome, funny, and smart,
but my dear Wesley,
I fear you're a piece of paper,
torn apart.
Yes, ripped into pieces, torn apart.
You have no kind being, to soften your heart,
and it's now more than ever that you need a friend
to take a patch of love, and stitch a mend.
However, all alone, you sit, drenched in the dark,
and scarred by your guilt, a permanent mark.
So, my dear Wesley,
come my conclusion, again,
for you need to hear it as you sit burdened by sin.
Cold as ice is your once noble heart,
for you, my dear Wesley, are a piece of paper,
torn apart.