Your mother saved your medals./   She put them in a box in a room./   Basket, base, and footballs./   Plastic creatures from the county zoo./      She thinks about you often.   She has no idea you're rotten.   She thinks about you often.   All the colors have run off and you have been exposed.   Now let me do the talking.      With a hymn and a secret hid   Beneath a broken heart.   Can you start...to pick up the pieces?   A hymn and a secret hid   Beneath the bleachers...   Wham, bam, Son of Sam   Pick up the pieces.      Blessed by your genetics.   You possess a certain asthetic charm.   But something's disconnected.   And you're quite capable of causing harm.      Your malice is volcanic.   Your insecurity, titanic.   Your mood is always manic and I do suppose.   When you hear this song you'll have a tantrum.      With a hymn and a secret hid   Beneath a broken heart.   Can you start...to pick up the pieces?   A hymn and a secret hid   Beneath the bleachers...   Wham, bam, Son of Sam.   Pick up the pieces.   Pick up the pieces.      With a hymn and a secret hid   Beneath a broken heart.   Can you start...to pick up the pieces?   A hymn and a secret hid   Beneath the bleachers...   Wham, bam, Son of Sam.   Pick up the pieces.   Pick up the pieces.