Children who watch their fathers rise to work each day Becoming bitter as they piss their lives away Out of balance as he stumbles to the porch Too young to recognize the passing of the torch And so they cry (in fear) They wonder why (not here) The cycle punctuates an atmosphere of pain and lies It gets to where one never knows what to expect A bedtime story or a broken nose or neck They take it in and take it on Like theyve been shown It goes on and on and Too many sterile homes without a thing to say A generation losing innocence this way and No recognition of the bridges as they burn Just repetition of behaviors they have learned And so they cry (in fear) They wonder why (not here) We tip the fragile scales of temperament and guilt Too soon mistaken for the will that makes us strong But looking back its just the shame we pass along My dreams too often true I will never be the same as you Born dead to live a lie Shut down when I see you cry
Posted on: Thu, 11 Dec 2014 14:31:41 +0000
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